


Just Stand by Me

by hentaihorseface



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Otabek Altin, Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Abortion, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omega Verse, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, POV Alternating, Pregnant Sex, Some Humor, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hentaihorseface/pseuds/hentaihorseface
Summary: “Motherfucker!” Yuri wails into his knees, carelessly wiping his snot on the fabric of his leggings.He somehow hasn’t cried for the past three weeks since learning about the parasite growing inside of him, so he allows himself a moment to be dramatic about it.He leans against the toilet, slumped over the toilet bowl, sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor, and he can’t help but think of how appropriate this setting is for how low he’s feeling right now.





	1. when the night has come

Yuri wretches into the toilet bowl, all too aware of the pair of suspicious eyes behind him, but also too tired to care. After a month and a half of sneaking around, puking in various toilets around the rink, he can’t say he was expecting to never be caught. He was just hoping to prolong it as long as possible. He’s just glad it’s Katsuki who’s found him out, patiently waiting just outside the stall door Yuri had neglected to lock in his haste and not Viktor, who he knows wouldn’t have even an ounce of the same decency. 

Once Yuri’s hacked up all his breakfast, he gingerly tosses his hair back from out of his face before picking himself up to slump against the wall. 

“Just spit it out already,” Yuri rasps, not even gracing Katsuki with so much as a glance.

He hears other Yuuri sigh followed by the rustling of his jacket as he moves into the stall before he’s in Yuri’s peripheral, sliding down the wall to sit down next to him.

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” Katsuki ventures and Yuri’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

“No—”

“I’ll take you.”

“You can barely even speak a full sentence in Russian without sounding like a toddler—”

“Rude, but I mean as moral support. Obviously you weren’t going to do it by yourself.”

Yuri huffs at that, repositions his legs to scoot his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around them. 

The silence stretches on just a beat too long to be comfortable.

“Well, would you rather me ask Viktor to take you—”

Yuri cuts him off with a snort, “Obviously not—”

“Then you’re going with me, unless you want me to tell him why you’ve been feeling so sick lately.”

“Wow. Never pegged you as the blackmailing-type, piggy,” Yuri grits between his teeth, eyes narrowing into slits and glaring over towards the piggy in question. Katsuki just raises a challenging eyebrow in response so he must be very aware he’s got the upper hand here. Yuri would go to Viktor for help with this shit over his dead body.

Yuri sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on him, but to be fair, he’s been feeling like that ever since that shitty piece of plastic ruined his life three weeks ago. 

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Just make the appointment and I’ll come with. I’ll tell Viktor it’s a heat irregularity issue or something so he won’t pry too much.” Katsuki pats his shoulder before using it as a crutch to stand up. Yuri almost slaps Katsuki’s arm out from under him, but figures it’d be wise not to try his luck when the piggy’s got so much leverage on him already.

Just as he hears the bathroom door creak shut, Yuri feels his throat lock up for some stupid, inexplicable, but probably, his mind helpfully supplies, hormonal reason, that has him squeaking out the most pitiful whimper he’s ever heard come out of his mouth.

“Motherfucker!” Yuri wails into his knees, carelessly wiping his snot on the fabric of his leggings. 

He somehow hasn’t cried for the past three weeks since learning about the parasite growing inside of him, so he allows himself a moment to be dramatic about it. 

He leans against the toilet, slumped over the toilet bowl, sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor, and he can’t help but think of how appropriate this setting is for how low he’s feeling right now. 

 

After two days of Katsuki giving him prompting looks at the rink, Yuri finally schedules the appointment. The phone call isn’t as awkward as he’d anticipated; Yuri figures pregnancy tests are probably a pretty standard request for an Omega Care Center. 

But that still doesn’t prepare him for the cold chill of gel and the firm press of the ultrasound stick pressing at his abdomen that makes this whole shitty situation feel uncomfortably real.

“Alright, let’s see if we can’t find something in here,” the doctor mumbles to herself more than Yuri, eyes zoned in on the screen next to her.

Yuri glances surreptitiously over at other Yuuri, who has offered no tangible form of comfort this entire trip other than his presence (probably for the best), and is just staring as intently at the screen as the doctor is.

“Oh, there we go. We’ve ourselves a got a fetus,” the doctor declares. Yuri hadn’t really been holding his breath for any other outcome. He’d taken two full boxes of drugstore pregnancy tests before resigning himself to the fate of baking this human inside of him. 

Katsuki on the other hand, who doesn’t seem to need a translation for what he’s witnessing on the screen, leans in towards the image with his eyes wide his eyebrows creased. He looks worriedly over to Yuri who just shrugs his shoulders in defeat. 

“From these measurements I’d put you at about 10, maybe closer to 11 weeks. So a little under three months,” the doctor puts down the ultrasound wand without preamble, clearly reading the room and situation well enough to know that this probably isn’t a celebratory visit for freshly 17-year-old Yuri and the other accompanying omega.

“So…” Yuri licks his lips and gives some pause before throwing dignity to the wind and asking anyways, “does that mean I’ll… get bigger soon?” he fumbles awkwardly with his phrasing, but the doctor meets him with an understanding nod.

“Well, you’re thin and very athletic, so it really depends. Some people with your build end up showing pretty obviously around 16 weeks or so, but then some of the really athletic types sometimes don’t really start showing until maybe halfway through their pregnancy.”

Yuri perks up at that and runs some quick calculations in his head. If it’s September now, that means he’ll be around halfway through his pregnancy by the time the Grand Prix Final rolls around, so if he can stay trim until then—

“Of course, you’ll need to stop skating right away.”

“What?!” Yuri cries, hands violently slamming onto the armrests on either side of him.

The doctor just tilts her head a bit, as if this were obvious information.

“At the competitive training level, I mean,” she starts slowly, as if to make sure that Yuri is following along. “High impact sports like figure skating can be a real danger to the baby. You’re regularly landing jumps with your entire bodyweight. You’re a professional so of course you can do light warm-ups for the first few trimesters, or as long as you feel comfortable with your center of balance, but absolutely no more jumps or other risky skills.”

Yuri groans forlornly, leaning his head against the headrest. The doctor simply lifts an eyebrow at him before returning to typing her notes, and Yuuri with too many ‘u’s uses the lull in conversation to make a questioning noise.

“She said I can’t fucking skate anymore,” Yuri bites out, running a hand over his face.

“I said you shouldn’t skate at a competition level anymore,” the doctor corrects in perfect, accented English. 

Yuri lets out a surprised scoff, the tips of his ears burning, and Katsuki the bastard, just gives him an amused look before launching into a list of questions for the doctor that Yuri probably should have thought to ask himself.

Where can he pick up his prenatals, do you have any pregnancy-safe medication for nausea, is there any special diet he should be following, what kinds of exercises are safe for him to continue with the aim of competing again post-pregnancy… 

The list goes on and honestly, Yuri starts tuning out at some point in order to read some old posters on the wall about the omega reproductive system.

“… if he wants to terminate the pregnancy?” is when his ears force him back into the conversation.

“We don’t do pregnancy terminations at our offices, but I can get you the information for a partner clinic. The cut-off is 20 weeks, but he should decide as soon as possible.”

Yuri bites his lip, refusing to meet either Katsuki’s or the doctor’s eyes, even as she hands him a wad of tissues to wipe off the gel on his stomach.

He doesn’t say anything besides the necessary string of words to the receptionist to schedule his next appointment, and Katsuki doesn’t try to make conversation either, not until they’ve gotten all the way back to Viktor’s gaudy pink car on the far side of the parking lot. 

“I can’t believe I let you drive me here in this ugly piece of shit,” Yuri sneers, but his heart isn’t in it. He tries to open the passenger door, and jolts when it doesn’t budge. He glances up to shoot Katsuki a confused look and immediately wants to roll his eyes at the pitying look he’s met with.

“Look, Katsudon, I don’t need your pity. I know I fucked up—,”

“No, Yuri. This is a hard decision to make,” other Yuuri counters firmly. 

Yuri narrows his eyes at him, confused at where this conversation is going if it’s not going to be a lecture.

“If you need me to drive you to the other clinic, I can. You should probably tell your grandfather and Viktor, but that’s not really my place to get involved. We just need to figure out what we’re going to do about your skat—”

“I don’t want to talk about this now, okay?” Yuri sets his jaw, feels his nostrils flair at the tension.

“Yurio, I’m just trying to—”

“I know,” Yuri takes a minute to gather his internal conflict, and even though what he really wants to do is yell at Katsuki to mind his own damn business, he knows Katsuki is here because he cares and all that sappy shit. “I just… give me some time to think about this,” he finally sighs clenching his eyes shut when he starts to feel the beginnings of a migraine creep into his temples.

After a beat, Yuri hears the car lock click open and Katsuki sigh. 

“Okay,” he says.

Once he’s seated in the car, Yuri presses his palms into his brow bone and releases a harsh breath through his nostrils. He has got an impossible amount of goddamn motherfucking shit to work through right now.


	2. and the land is dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah. I’ve… just been a little sick lately, is all,” Yuri mumbles into his cat’s fur.
> 
> Otabek furrows his eyebrows. “You never get sick. Did you visit the doctor?”
> 
> “Yes, it’s just a cold,” Yuri replies a little too quickly and a little too clipped and it makes Otabek narrow his eyes.

“Beka, dear, it’s time for dinner!”

Otabek sighs down at his laptop; he’s about two minutes away from finishing his Official Apology Mix and sending it off to Yuri, but he also knows that he’ll have a lot more to apologize for if he isn’t downstairs and in the kitchen within the next minute and a half. 

“Coming, mama!” Otabek calls down, double and then triple-saving the file before shutting his laptop, just in case.

Things had more or less gone back to normal between him and Yuri since his visit to Kazakhstan a few months ago, but Otabek can’t help but worry about where they stand. He hadn’t meant to leave Yuri hanging – truthfully, he didn’t _want_ to leave Yuri hanging at all, if the situation were less complicated—

“Otabek Omaruly Altin!”

—but, unfortunately for him, family matters weighed on him much more heavily than he would’ve liked for them to, specifically when it came to his personal affairs.

“Sorry, mother!”

Otabek hauls himself downstairs and washes his hands at the kitchen sink before he dutifully goes about setting the table.

“Zhanym, don’t tell me you were tinkering with that silly computer music again…”

Otabek pauses just as he’s about to set a knife onto the table with a little more force than he’s sure his mother would appreciate. Instead, he gathers himself and sets it in its place with a level of restraint only years of manners training under his mother’s tutelage could account for. 

“It’s just a hobby, mama.”

“Even so, you should be focusing more on building a sustainable future for you and your mate after you’ve retired from skating…”

The reprimand disguised as concern has Otabek’s shoulders pinching up with the most minuscule amount of tension, but it’s still enough for his mother to notice on her way to the table. 

“Posture, Beka, you know the extra tension isn’t good for your sport.”

Otabek resets his posture. Rayana Altin is nothing if not observant and, honestly, Otabek blames himself for thinking that even the slightest hint of imperfect posture could ever go unnoticed by her. 

Once his mother has sat at her place at the table, Otabek takes his seat just to her left. The usually sprawling dining table has been retracted, leaving enough room for just five people, rather than the usual fifteen plus. In Otabek’s immediate family it’s just him, his younger sister and his mother, who loves to play host to the extended family whenever she gets the chance. Their family had always gotten together plenty often, but Otabek remembers the gatherings becoming distinctly more frequent after his father had died about five years ago. He knows the company has helped his mother’s grieving process, but he can’t say the same for himself when his family comprises of the most passively critical people in probably the entire country. 

_Beka, you should spend more time at home with your poor mother, your skating schedule leaves no room for your family… you should really be taking your role as the alpha of the household more seriously… you’re coming on twenty years old and you haven’t found yourself a nice omega girl yet? Your mother’s going to have to start playing matchmaker soon…_

Otabek has a feeling that it’s the last fleeting thought that’s brought them both together to this dinner table tonight, his sister having been conveniently dropped off at a friend’s for the night. When his mother had called insisting he pay a visit home to Astana before the start of the competitive season, he’d been fully aware there would be some kind of ulterior motive; and with the way his family had been pestering him with increasing frequency about his relationship status, he’d been able to put the pieces together pretty quickly. 

The food has been set up in the center of the table already. Otabek’s mother takes a moment to fold down the creases on her hijab before holding her hands up in prayer. Otabek mirrors her position, and joins her in saying their thanks.

Once they’ve finished du’a, Otabek takes his mother’s plate and dishes out servings of the small feast she’s suspiciously prepared for just the two of them, then starts to fill his own plate under his mother’s watchful eye.

“Two manti are quite enough, dear, you need to be watching your weight before the season starts.”

Otabek bites back a sigh, returning the third dumpling back to the serving tray and privately questioning why on earth his mother would prepare so much food when she expected him to eat so little of it.

They eat in relative silence for the next few minutes; Otabek knows his mother is about to drop a bomb and doesn’t feel the need to fill in the space before it with idle chatter. He just wonders what’s taking so long when it’s so obvious she’s got something up her sleeve.

“I’ve some wonderful news for you, Beka.”

Ah. There it is.

Otabek obediently sets his silverware down so that he can focus his undivided attention on his mother, lest he get yet another lecture on the importance of listening to his elders when they’re speaking on something important.

“Yes?” 

“I paid a visit to the Usenov’s home the other week. Their daughter, Samal, is interested in meeting with you.”

“Mama—”

“She’s a lovely young omega. Your same age. Very smart girl, she’s actually studying Pharmacy at the National Medical University in Almaty. It’s perfect – I’ve already arranged for the two of you to meet there once you’ve returned.”

“Mother—”

“I _know_ what you’re going to say, you’re very busy preparing for the upcoming season, but I scheduled her for your rest day next week. Tuesday, is it? I told you that photocopy of your training schedule would come in handy for me. So?”

Otabek stalls. Of course, his mother has planned this all out in such a way that he has no real excuse and refusing would just make him seem ungrateful. After all, by Altin family standards, his mother is just doing him a favor by getting the ball rolling on a courtship he already knows he’s not even interested in – not that he’d be caught dead ever saying that to his mother’s face. 

The sound of long nails tapping impatiently against the wood of the table tells Otabek he’s been stalling far too long for his mother’s liking.

“Well? Tell me you’ll meet with her, zhanym. That’s all I ask of you. Just one meeting.”

Otabek knows it isn’t a suggestion even if it’s phrased like one.

He draws in a breath, trying his best to appear as neutral as possible.

“Okay, mama. Thank you for going to the trouble of arranging it.” 

The sight of his mother’s lips curling into a pleased grin sits like a rock at the bottom of his gut.

 

 

 

“So, I finished your mix.”

“Mix?” Yuri cocks his head to one side through the screen of Otabek’s laptop.

 “Yeah, the apology mix I told you about,” Otabek clarifies, a slow smirk making its way onto his features at Yuri’s dramatic snort.

“Oh yeah. The ‘sorry we had sex’ tape.”

“You know that’s a really weird thing to call it.”

“ _Yeah_ , well that’s exactly what it is and it has a ring to it,” Yuri counters, making a show of snuggling his cat to his chest from their position laying sideways on his bed.

 _Too cute_.

“I’m sending it to you through Skype messenger.”

“Mmkay,” Yuri yawns, and Otabek notices his eyes sliding shut briefly before he seems to catch himself and forces them back open.

“What’s got you so tired? Isn’t it only like nine over there?” Which makes it midnight in Astana, but he’s not about to rub it in Yuri’s face; they both know by now that Otabek’s a night owl and Yuri is decidedly not, regardless of how valiantly he’d tried to stay up late for Otabek’s gigs during his visit this summer. There had been a handful of times Otabek had finished a set at a club only to find Yuri passed out in the green room waiting for him.

“Ah. I’ve… just been a little sick lately, is all,” Yuri mumbles into his cat’s fur.

Otabek furrows his eyebrows. “You never get sick. Did you visit the doctor?”

“Yes, it’s just a cold,” Yuri replies a little too quickly and a little too clipped and it makes Otabek narrow his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re oka—”

“Oh, it’s downloaded!” Yuri interjects, choosing to conveniently cut Otabek off at that moment, even when Otabek can see on his own screen that the file had finished downloading about two minutes ago. He puts his suspicion is his back pocket for now; he’s learned exactly how stubborn Yuri can be throughout these past couple of years and he knows how to pick his battles by now.

Yuri reaches over to grab his phone from the bedside table, hoodie riding up and exposing the lower half of his torso. Otabek is about to say something about him being a tease but then Yuri’s eyes widen a fraction before he forcefully yanks the hoodie back down.

“What, self-conscious now that I’ve seen you naked?” Otabek says instead. He knows something must be up, but since Yuri is clearly not about to share what it is, he opts for distraction instead.

“As if you didn’t see me practically naked on like the third day of our friendship,” Yuri rolls his eyes, fiddling with his phone – setting up the bluetooth, Otabek realizes when he hears his mix start to filter out of the speaker.

“You still had _some_ clothes on during your exhibition.” Though Yakov, Lilia, and Viktor would be hard-pressed to argue that point.

“And the onsen when we visited Hasetsu last year,” Yuri looks at him pointedly.

“That’s _different_ —”

“Well yeah, but you still popped a boner both times,” Yuri smirks and Otabek groans, instantly regretting being responsible for the shift in conversation.

“I was _flattered_ , Beka. It’s just too bad it took an entire year after that for you to actually stick it in me.”

“That is so crude,” Otabek rolls his eyes, but the hint of a smile on his face betrays his words.

Yuri returns the grin with a small one of his own before flopping down on his side and cuddling back up to his cat, shutting his eyes and holding his phone up near his face to listen to the mix.

Otabek takes the lull in conversation to replay the events of Yuri’s last visit back in his mind. It had been a whirlwind month with Yuri staying at his apartment in Almaty, that was for sure. Between the days spent shyly cuddling up on the couch binging bad Netflix movies, the far bolder nights spent out at clubs, bodies grinding against each other and stealing drunken kisses— all of the innocent foreplay that had culminated into the last three days spent tangled in his bed sheets and on top of probably every other surface in Otabek’s flat, dedicated to satiating a heat that Yuri wasn’t supposed to have gotten until he’d returned to Moscow for the summer. The sheer amount of condoms stuffed into his trash was embarrassingly hard to hide from his neighbors’ condescending stares the following garbage day.

When the day came for Yuri’s departure, of course he’d demanded to know where they stood since their two years and counting flirtation had finally escalated to real, tangible intimacy. It wasn’t that Otabek wasn’t absolutely thrilled about it, but he still had his fair share of reservations: there was the matter of Yuri’s grandfather’s approval, not to mention the rest of his defacto skating family. He had really been waiting until Yuri’s eighteenth birthday to ask him out officially – honestly, he’d just assumed that Yuri’s family must have been as strict about that rule as his own household had been. Even if Otabek had snuck around it, he wasn’t about to admit that to Yuri, not then at least. Yuri had chewed him out for being so presumptuous, which was fair, but there was still the issue of Otabek’s own family. He’d told Yuri that his mother was strict, but he definitely hadn’t divulged the extent of it. And with his family’s increasingly passive aggressive comments about Otabek needing to find a nice Muslim omega girl to court and soon, he knew he needed some time to figure out how he was going to let his mother down easy about his decidedly not Muslim, not female, and to make matters even more complicated, incredibly _Russian_ , romantic interest. To be honest, it was that last point that Otabek was having the most trouble consolidating a solid argument for.

They’d left it off as unofficially official as it could get; after managing to calm Yuri down from a fit of rage at the ambiguity of it all, Otabek had insisted that he wanted to start a relationship, but he needed some time to talk things over with his family before they made things public. Yuri had started to pry at that point— _“What, do you need to call a family meeting and have them fucking pre-approve me or something before you can date me? What the fuck?”_ _“Not exactly… just let me smooth some things over with my mother. You know how she can be.”_ —But Yuri eventually allowed himself to be driven to the airport and sent off with a covert kiss in a narrow corner near the bathroom and a promise of weekly Skype dates until they could talk things over again in person at Skate America in October.

And that brings them back to the “sorry we had sex” tape Yuri’s just finished playing on his side of the screen.

Yuri quirks an eyebrow at him before smirking, “That sounded more like an ‘I wanna have sex again’ tape to me.”

Otabek can’t help but laugh at that proclamation, because all right, maybe he’d been a little heavy handed with the smooth bass and sexy riffs when putting together this mix.

“Am I wrong?” Yuri giggles, the sound so pure and angelic that it has Otabek swooning, the big, dopey grin Yuri had been so embarrassed about this summer coming out full force.

“Oh my god, stop it, you’re disgusting,” Yuri whines, smashing his face into his pillow.

“What, am I not allowed to grin like an idiot over how stupidly beautiful my boyfriend is?”

Otabek bites his tongue and Yuri turns to glare razor-sharp at the camera, at seemingly the exact same time.

“Well, we’re not _boyfriends_ , first of all,” Yuri sneers, and okay, Otabek guesses he had that one coming to him.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and biting the inside of his cheek before starting slow, “I mean… not officially, but technically we—”

“No. Nope. You’re the one who _needed time_ for your family to judge my worthiness before we could make it official or whatever the fuck shit it is you said—”

“Yura—”

“Don’t fucking _Yura_ me!”

“Yuri. Yuratchka,” Otabek tries, and gets little more than an angry pout and an icy glare in response.

“… babe.” Otabek pulls out the big guns, and for his efforts, that at least gets him a gravelly sigh and a grumpy, “ _what_?” in response.

“Look… about my family…” Otabek releases a long breath through his nose, because now that they’re on the topic, he might as well be honest about what's going on and why this whole thing has turned out to be so convoluted.

“My mom is trying to… set me up?”

Yuri narrows his eyes into dangerous slits. “Meaning…?”

“How do I explain this?” Otabek trills his lips as he puts his thoughts together. “You know I’ve told you how my mother is… strict.”

Yuri looks to sober up when he realizes that this is _that_ kind of talk, glare softening as he nods to show that he’s following.

“Well, she, and, really, the rest of my family… they want me to start courting someone…”

Yuri seems to perk up at that, but Otabek continues before he can get his hopes up, treading as gently as he can, “Someone omega…. and female… and Muslim.”

Yuri deflates and scoffs, trying to act simply affronted, but Otabek can see the way his eyes are quickly misting over even through the screen of his laptop.

“Well, I guess it’d better for you to break this off now before we actually started dating and you had to break up with my ass for real,” Yuri huffs bitterly, trying to hide a sniffle by angrily scrubbing at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Yura, that’s not— that’s not what this is,” Otabek says, gently. “I’ve liked you _for forever_ , you know that. I’m not going give that up just to live up to some bull shit standards my mother’s trying to force onto me.”

“Then why the fuck are you telling me all this?” Yuri snaps, and while it’s not an unusual tone for him, Otabek has to admit that he’s slightly taken aback by the sudden shift from brooding to vitriolic.

“Fuck,” Otabek whispers to himself and Yuri’s eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead; Otabek rarely curses, so Yuri must realize that Otabek’s in a bind here.

“My mom… she set me up for a meeting with an omega—”

“What the fuck, Beka?”

“—and I told her I’d go—”

“What the actual _fuck_ , Beka?!”

“It’s just to humor her!” Otabek puts his hands up in defeat, scrambling to backtrack to a point where Yuri’s not hunched over his laptop, face flushed an angry shade of red, rage so palpable that it has Puma Tiger Scorpion hissing and fleeing from her owner’s side at lightening speed.

“She said she just wants me to meet with her once. That’s all. Nothing’s going to happen. I just want to get my mom off my back so that I can figure out how I’m going to introduce you to her.”

Otabek holds his breath and he can see Yuri start to collapse in on himself, spine losing its stiff tension and the color rapidly draining from his face. Rather than relaxing though, Yuri seems to radiate an air of absolute defeat.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. Just give me some time to figure this out. Please.”

“Whatever.” Yuri’s breath hitches, making his voice crack in the middle of the word. He swipes his sleeve across his eyes again and, holy shit, he’s actually crying now, hiccuping little sobs that he tries to conceal in the fabric of his hoodie.

“Oh no, Yuri—”

“Just. Do whatever – you have to do. Whatever, I’m just—,” Yuri’s breath keeps hitching in between his words, tears streaming down his cheeks in earnest. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Otabek catches Yuri mumble and he opens his mouth to respond, anything to keep him on the line, but then the app beeps menacingly at him and the screen cuts off, signaling the end of their conversation.

Otabek groans, burying his face into his hands. That couldn’t have possibly gone worse, he thinks bitterly. His only solace is that at least everything is out on the table now. He and Yuri can officially start their relationship clean and free of secrets by the time October rolls around – that is if Yuri will ever even talk to him again after being so personally targeted by Otabek’s mess of family drama before he’s ever even met them.

“Fuck…” Otabek mutters again to himself. He’s entirely aware of how unfair this whole situation is to Yuri and he’s determined to make it right— even if the prospect of finding a solution seems too impossible to even fathom with things as they are right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's our boy!!! Sorry, I really did not mean to be so leading about the lack of Otabek in the last chapter haha. He is definitely crucial to this story. :p 
> 
> If I got anything wrong in regards to Kazakh culture or Islam, please let me know. I tried my best to be really thorough with research for this chapter so that I could be as accurate as possible. It’s really important for me to portray the cultural aspects in this story respectfully.
> 
> Btw, zhanym = my dearest, my soul and Otabek's middle name is a Kazakh patronymic of Omar (his father's name)
> 
> I'm going to try to update this weekly. I already started on the next chapter, so hopefully next weekend i can have that one up.
> 
> I'm yeayeayurio on tumblr if you're interested in following me there.


	3. and the moon is the only light we'll see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s weird… the roster for Skate America’s been updated. Someone’s dropped…” Otabek trails off, eyes growing wide with realization and Yuri’s heart skips along with it, a cold chill running down his spine.
> 
> Otabek slowly raises his head to lock eyes with Yuri, gaze weighted and tone accusatory when he says, “Someone’s dropped out.”

“Well, well, well Yuratchka. How nice of you to finally tell your poor old coach why you’ve been absent from training for the last three weeks. And with Skate America just around the corner… are you trying to make my debut as your coach an absolute disaster?” Viktor sighs dramatically, bringing the back of his hand up to his forehead for effect. He’s speaking in English for the benefit of Katsuki, who grimaces at his side, all three of them sat around the couple’s kitchen table.

“Vitya…” Katsudon chides, placing a solid hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Let him talk.”

 Viktor locks eyes briefly with his fiancé, his lips peeling into a lovesick little smile makes Yuri feel physically ill.

 “My Yuuri, you’re just beautiful when you get all stern with me like that,” Viktor proclaims before pressing a kiss to his partner’s cheek. Katsuki looks as if he’s about to protest for Yuri’s sake, but ends up melting under the affection instead, trying to suppress a smile with cheeks tinged a guilty shade of pink.

Yuri takes the opportunity to verbally gag; half because he honestly feels nauseous anyway and half to get the attention of the literal man-child he’s been forced to call his coach ever since Yakov’s retirement.

“Yes, yes, Yurio, I’m all ears. The floor is yours. Take it away, my protégé—”

“I’m pregnant,” Yuri spits out like venom, the desire to get Viktor to just shut the fuck up with his lame dramatics vastly outweighing any lingering nerves.

Viktor releases a strange creaking noise from his throat from his unfinished sentence, eyes slowly widening as he connects the dots.

The seconds tick by and Yuri’s had just about enough of Viktor’s comically wide saucer eyes staring him down across the table, so he tries again.

“Hello? Do you need to get your ears checked, old man? I _said_ I’m—”

Viktor cuts him off with a cackle so obnoxiously loud, it makes Yuri and fake Yuuri startle in unison. 

Yuri locks eyes with Katsuki, shooting him a confused look only to be met with an identical one from across the table.

“Viktor!” Katsuki interjects, exasperation ringing clear in his tone.

As Viktor’s hysterics taper off, he goes to wipe the tears from his eyes with flourish.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, dorogoy, I just – Wow!”

Yuri doesn’t need a mirror to know that the look of disgust he’s directing towards Viktor is cartoonish.

“Thank you for that. I needed a good laugh today. You two almost got me with that one!” Viktor sighs on a soft chuckle, and that’s when it hits Yuri that he’d been right all along; Viktor Nikiforov truly is the single worst human being that has ever walked the face of the planet.

“Now, seriously, what were you going to tell me?” Viktor prompts, an oblivious, delighted smile plastered on his dumb face.

To Viktor’s left, his fiancé slowly rests his elbows on the table and guides his face into the palms of his hands.

“What? Did I miss something?” Viktor asks, frantically looking back and forth between the two Yuri’s.

“Yeah! Only the entire fucking point!” Yuri exclaims, face heating up in a mix of something between rage and embarrassment.

“Hm?” Viktor hums, perplexed, eyebrows knitting together as he takes another, slower look from the Yuuri at his side to the Yuri sat in front of him. Realization, slow and mortifying, seems to dawn on him, jaw going slack as he directs his gaze downward towards Yuri’s navel.

Yuri shifts awkwardly under the attention, arms coming up to wrap around his stomach to hide it from view, making Viktor’s eyes flit quickly back up to Yuri’s own.

“You mean… you’re actually…?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Yuri shouts at the same time Katsuki does, who lifts his head up from his hands and slams them down on the table.

A moment passes, the silence thick between the three of them.

“Oh… oh my,” Viktor finally utters, pressing a pensive finger to his lips.

“Vitya…?” Other Yuuri ventures when Viktor starts to go a little pale and lose his balance on the chair in which he’s seated.

Yuri narrows his eyes suspiciously. He couldn’t possibly be _that_ dramatic—

“I think… I think I need to lie down…” Viktor starts to rise from his chair, only to lose his footing and be caught last minute in Katsuki’s arms.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. The bastard actually fucking fainted,” Yuri deadpans, blinking down at the scene before him.

Katsuki just sighs, pillowing his idiot fiancé’s head in his lap and fanning at his face. Viktor moans in response, murmuring something that sounds like, _“my boy… all grown up…”_

“Can you grab him a wet cloth, Yurio?”

Yuri huffs, annoyed, but gets up to get a rag from the kitchen, anyway. It’s not Katsuki’s fault he’s marrying at idiot. Actually, on second thought, it definitely is.

“Well, I guess on the bright side I’ll have this oversized infant to practice on if I decide to keep this spawn.”

“Yurio…”

 

 

His talk with his grandpa goes surprisingly smoothly, but Yuri supposes that should have been expected after being the unwilling audience to the dramatic display he’d been subjected to yesterday in St. Petersburg. 

He’d taken an early flight out to Moscow after calling his dedushka the night before, disclosing that he’d had something important to talk to him about. Yuri supposes that’s why the only thing his grandpa actually does when he tells him the big news is place his elbows on the table, rub his thumbs into his temples and whisper a string of prayers. His grandfather had always been perceptive when it came to Yuri keeping secrets from him.

“Deda… are you… are you mad?” Yuri asks, voice small like it always is when he knows he’s disappointed his grandfather.

“Yuratchka…” his grandpa sighs, prying open his eyes to lock them with Yuri’s own. “I’m _furious_ , Yuratchka. _Of course_ , I wish you’d been more responsible…”

Yuri frowns at the disappointment present in his grandpa’s voice, lips already quivering and eyes stinging with unshed tears. He cares about his grandfather’s opinion more than anyone else’s in the world and his disapproval would be impossible to swallow.

“ _But_ …” his grandfather pauses to take Yuri’s hand from across the table between his own and Yuri starts, tears slipping down his cheeks in surprise. “You have your mother’s strength. And if you’re anything like she was, I know you’ll be able to figure this out. _We’ll_ be able to figure this out.”

“ _Deda_ …” Yuri uses his other hand to wipe away the tears streaming down his face, sobbing openly now, his dedushka’s eyes getting wet with emotion, too.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy with you either,” his grandpa says pointedly, but tightens his grip on Yuri’s hand. “But I think it would be even more painful for her to see you go through a pregnancy without any support.”

Yuri’s eyebrows scrunch up and he sniffles messily. He’s heard the story enough times to know what his grandfather is talking about; after Yuri’s father had left his mother for a mistress mid-pregnancy, she had sought refuge in a women’s shelter, too ashamed to return home to her parents. The medical staff didn’t have the right equipment to handle complications of childbirth, and while Yuri survived, his mother had lost too much blood and passed away as a result.

“I want to do right by her, Yuratchka. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t come to me when you need help. And I am so proud of you for talking to me now. I know this couldn’t have been easy. I love you so much, my Yuri.”

“I love you too, Deda.”

The warm embrace that follows will be a moment that Yuri cherishes for the rest of his life, he’s sure.

 

 

“So, how was your _date_?” Yuri picks at his fingernails, glaring at the raw redness that gradually settles at the tips.

Otabek sighs on screen, burying his face in his hands and shaking his head back and forth, clearly exasperated.

“Please don’t call it that, Yura. It wasn’t a date.”

“It might as well have been. Does she _know_ you’re seeing someone else?”

Otabek bites his lower lip guiltily and opts to say nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Yuri sneers, narrowing his eyes. “So. Tell me how it was.”

Otabek pauses for a moment, as if trying to prepare his phrasing in a way that doesn’t make Yuri anymore livid than he already is. Fat chance at that, Yuri scoffs inwardly, these hormones are elevating his emotions to an intensity he’d never thought possible before now.

“I mean. She was nice,” he eventually settles on, lamely, and Yuri actually scoffs in response.

“But she’s not _you_ ,” Otabek continues, eyes pleading, and _that’s_ what Yuri likes to see.

“You can flatter me all you want, but her _and_ your mom better know this was a one time deal,” Yuri deadpans. The leverage he has in this situation has got him feeling particularly vindictive.

“Of course, Yura,” Otabek says, voice equally as deadpan as Yuri’s by tone, but Yuri knows that it’s just Otabek’s way of conveying his sincerity.

“…mkay,” Yuri huffs, hugging a pillow close to his body and burying his mouth in it to signal the end of the discussion at hand. He doesn’t want to draw it out longer than he has to; he’s gearing up for a much more pressing conversation. One that he’d really rather not have over Skype, but he’s kind of on a roll with the whole coming clean about the pregnancy thing and he’s kind of worried if he doesn’t keep it up, he won’t get to telling Otabek about it until he realizes Yuri’s pulled out of the roster for Skate America.

Otabek’s phone chimes with a message alert off-screen and Yuri can see him flit his eyes over towards the notification.

“Oh, hang on, that’s my coach,” Otabek mumbles, reaching for his phone and unlocking it.

“That’s weird… the roster for Skate America’s been updated. Someone’s dropped…” Otabek trails off, eyes growing wide with realization and Yuri’s heart skips along with it, a cold chill running down his spine.

Otabek slowly raises his head to lock eyes with Yuri, gaze weighted and tone accusatory when he says, “Someone’s dropped out.”

“Beka…” Yuri scrambles to find the right words, fingers biting into the pillow he’s clutching to his chest.

“Yuri, what the hell is going on? What aren’t you telling me?” Otabek’s eyebrows crease together with an air of not only concern, but also, Yuri notes guiltily, betrayal.

“I was—I was going to tell you—”

“Tell me _what_ Yuri? Are you hurt? Why would you keep something like that from me?” It’s unlike Otabek to cut him off or plead with Yuri like this unless he’s incredibly worried, and that makes Yuri’s throat lock tight with another wave of guilt.

“No, it’s not… I’m not _hurt_ …” Yuri insists, face suddenly burning with shame. Shame that he’d kept this from Otabek and sudden shame that he’s found himself in this situation at _all_.

“Yura, _please_.”

“I’m… ugh, fuck, Otabek, I don’t—I’m not ready to—”

“Not ready to what? Tell me what’s going on? Yura, you can’t just drop out of a GPF qualifier and expect me not to be worried. Is this why you’ve been acting so off lately?”

Yuri clenches his eyes shut, bites his lower lip as he tries to control his breathing. He must have noticed during their video chat last week.

Otabek sighs out a harsh breath, clearly aggravated with Yuri’s lack of transparency.

“Yuri, you’re not acting like yourself. None of this is like you—”

“Yeah, maybe I’m not _acting_ like myself because I’ve been over here growing a fucking fetus for the last three months and trying to figure out how to tell you about it so you won’t fucking hate me for it!”

“Yuri, what—?”

Otabek cuts himself off with a quiet gasp and for a few short moments that feel like an eternity, the only sound between them is Yuri’s ragged breathing.

“You’re pregnant,” Otabek finally responds, eyes wide and unseeing, focused somewhere near his keyboard, rather than on Yuri himself.

“…yeah,” Yuri replies after a moment, voice small, eyes searching Otabek for any sign of reaction other than blind shock.

Otabek licks his lips once, twice, eyes continuing to stare, virtually unblinking at something beyond the bounds of Yuri’s screen.

“I think I have to…—”

Otabek starts, slowly, and Yuri can see it in the way his hand twitches near the keyboard before he even says it.

“No. No, Otabek, don’t hang up right now, do you have any idea how hard that was for me to—”

“Yuri, I just need some time to think—”

“ _No_! Let’s think together. Let’s talk this out. Please, Beka, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, just don’t hang up, okay?” Yuri begs, voice edging on the brink of a broken sob.

Otabek closes his eyes for a brief moment, hand flexing indecisively at the trackpad of his laptop.

“Yuri, I’m sorry. Just give me some time.”

“Beka—” Yuri cries, voice raw, but before he can get out the rest of the sentence, the connection cuts off and he’s met with an inky black screen that’s never looked so ominous before.

Yuri takes a moment to release a frustrated scream into the fabric of his pillow, before collecting himself and turning back to his laptop with an air of calm that’s, even to himself, somewhat eerie considering the outburst that proceeded it.

He types into the search bar, almost methodically, ‘tickets to Almaty’ and makes his purchase.


	4. no i won't be afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek is about to throw his bodyweight into the quad toe loop he’s trying to perfect when he hears the door creak open, followed by a familiar voice that sounds incredibly out of place in the rink.
> 
> “Is Otabek around—? Oh, there he is.”
> 
> Even though he’s distracted now, he’s already in jumping position, so he hurls himself into a triple toe loop instead. The landing is wobbly and he ends up touching down with both blades, but to the untrained eye, he knows it still must be impressive.
> 
> “Wow, nice one!”
> 
> Otabek huffs a breath and directs his gaze at the source of the praise.
> 
> “Um. Hey,” Otabek starts, skating towards the barrier. “What are you doing here?”

Otabek is about to throw his body weight into the quad toe loop he’s trying to perfect when he hears the door creak open, followed by a familiar voice that sounds incredibly out of place in the rink.

“Is Otabek around—? Oh, there he is.”

Even though he’s distracted now, he’s already in jumping position, so he hurls himself into a triple toe loop instead. The landing is wobbly and he ends up touching down with both blades, but to the untrained eye, he knows it still must be impressive.

“Wow, nice one!”

Otabek huffs a breath and directs his gaze at the source of the praise.

“Um. Hey,” Otabek starts, skating towards the barrier. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d drop by and see if you’d be free for coffee?”

Salam has her elbows crossed over the barrier, her long, dark hair intricately styled into a fishtail braid cascading over her right shoulder.

“I’m really sorry, Salam. It’s just… I’m a little busy,” Otabek fumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the ice.

Salam frowns down at her wristwatch, and cocks her head at it. She then meets eyes with Otabek briefly before letting out a defeated sigh, face coloring.

“I get it. No worries. I— man, this is so embarrassing… it’s just that…” Salam trails off, sighs again, then presses her lips together, looking cutely frustrated. Otabek tilts his head, urging her to continue.

“So… my mom told me to drop by here. She’s been talking to your mom who told _my_ mom when your break was and… it’s stupid, I know. My parents have just really been on my case to meet with you again, so…” Salam smiles guiltily, and Otabek can’t help but huff out a short laugh. He can definitely relate.

“Yeah. Same. I get it. Really,” Otabek half-smiles at her and Salam lets out a laugh that sounds relieved as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Parents,” they both deadpan at the same time, perfect unison, and that has them sharing surprised laugh.

Otabek grapples with his consciousness. It _is_ his lunch hour. His coach had already gone ahead without him after he’d insisted on hanging back to practice a few jumps. And to be honest, this would be a welcome distraction, what with the way Yuri hasn’t been responding to his calls or texts for the past three days.

“Otabek, I’m so sorry,” Salam cuts into his thoughts, placing a tentative hand on his forearm. “I really didn’t mean to impose—”

“No, it’s… okay. Let’s go grab some lunch?” Otabek offers, skating over to the exit and taking his skate guards off the boards.

“Oh. Okay. Sounds good,” Salam smiles softly, and Otabek smiles back, relieved for the distraction.

 

 

“Yeah, so I’ve been telling my parents things have been going _really_ well between us…” Salam says wryly with a roll of her eyes before taking a covert sip of her cappuccino. 

Otabek actually laughs at that, digging into his chicken salad across from her. They’ve only actually met the one time and had instantly established the fact that both of they had both only agreed to meet each other on the basis of their parents’ adamant requests. 

“Me too,” Otabek admits between bites.

Salam groans, bringing her fingertips up to her forehead and shaking her head.

“I’m really sorry I kind of blind-sided you. My mom was really pressing me to _surprise_ you at the rink and I just figured it might be kind of weird to ask you to lie to your mom on my behalf... since apparently they talk all the time now.” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s more authentic this way, at least,” Otabek shrugs. “But, for the record, I wouldn’t mind.”

Salam raises a curious eyebrow.

“Uh. Lying. That is…” Otabek trails off, casting his gaze guiltily to the side.

 “ _Really_?” Salam presses, leaning forward, eyes wide with something hopeful.

“Yeah. Honestly, it’d help me out, too…”

Salam narrows her eyes, a small grin gracing her lips. “Are you… seeing…?” she ventures, gesturing with a hand as if to fill in the rest of the sentence.

Otabek thinks he gets it. He’s silent for a moment, briefly pondering on the state of his and Yuri’s relationship. Even if it’s been a few days, Otabek supposes he can understand why Yuri had been less than satisfied by his response the other day. But if Otabek knows Yuri as well as he thinks he does, he’s guaranteed a decidedly dramatic reentrance back into his life any moment now, especially considering the inherent drama unfortunately attached to the situation at hand.

Otabek nods decisively. “Yeah. I’m seeing someone.” 

Salam gasps, eyes bright. 

“Seriously? Me too!” She puts a hand to her chest, sighing in relief.

Otabek raises his eyebrows and breathes out a surprised chuckle. “Wow, really? Is there a reason you can’t tell...?” Otabek trails off, waiting for Salam to fill in the blanks, and she quickly responds with a roll of the eyes and a frustrated sigh.

“Yeah,” Salam sets her coffee cup down on the table with a delicate clink. “I have a girlfriend. _And_ she’s an omega.”

Otabek sucks in a sympathetic breath through his teeth. “Yikes.” 

“Yeah… how about you?”

“My uh… boyfriend. He’s an omega…” Otabek starts, pauses for a moment to think about just how much he’s going to divulge when Salam interjects.

“Well… that’s not so bad, right? Obviously not _ideal_ or whatever, but as long as he can help carry on the _bloodline_ …” Salam trails off with a dull look and an exasperated shake of the head that Otabek knows is supposed to be companionable, but makes him tamp down a grimace at how close to home she’s getting.

“He’s Russian," he says in lieu of any other details.

“Oh… yikes,” Salam echoes Otabek’s previous grievance and he nods his head solemnly. It’s not that every Kazakh in the country despises Russia with a passion that runs through every last vein in their bodies’ like Otabek’s family. However, if Salam’s mother is friends with _his_ mother then he has to assume they take similar issue with their former USSR compatriot. 

“I guess we’re both kind of in impossible situations then, huh?” Salam says after a brief moment to digest their twin predicaments, smiling a bit sadly.

“Right. But… like I said, I’m not exactly above using _this_ situation to our advantage,” Otabek says slowly, eyes roaming over Salam’s features to assess her response. She bites her lower lip, eyes downcast, and eyebrows knitting together in thought.

“It’s… tempting,” she nods slightly. “I’d feel uncomfortable lying to my parents…” Here, Otabek hums in agreement, “ _But_ ,” she continues, “I guess this could buy us some time while we figure out how to break the news to them?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Otabek nods back. “Just until we can ease them into the idea of accepting our blasphemous unions,” he deadpans, earning him a wide-eyed stare from Salam, followed by her tinkling laughter.

“Oh, shut up! That’s way too close to the truth to be funny!”

Otabek smirks slowly. “What can I say? I have a dark sense of humor.”

Salam scoffs and gives him an eerily familiar sardonic glare that has his heart skipping a beat, feeling guilty, and missing Yuri all in the span of half a second. He blinks, snapping out of it, and in the next second Salam has extended her hand halfway across the table.

“Alright. So, do we have a deal, or not? It’s not _lying_ to our families, it’s just… tiding them over while we work out the details,” Salam nods decisively.

“Yeah…” Otabek considers her proffered hand for a moment before taking it with his own. “Alright. It’s a deal”

 

 

Otabek head homes from practice that evening with a lightness in his step he hasn’t felt since before his first fight with Yuri a few weeks ago. Obviously their current situation hasn’t helped much in aiding the sinking feeling of guilt in Otabek’s chest every time he so much as thinks of Yuri’s _name_ , considering the fact that they haven’t talked in days. But at the very least, he figures he’s bought some more time before the iron fist of his mother can come crashing down on their relationship.

His phone feels heavy in his pocket as he rounds the corner to his apartment. Maybe it’s just his good mood talking, but he has a feeling that when he tries to call Yuri tonight, he’ll get an answer. 

He hasn’t checked his phone since just after he and Salam had parted ways, so he idly clicks the home button – only to be assaulted with 17 missed calls from one Yura (bae) <3, as input by none other than the contact himself during his last visit to Kazakhstan.

Otabek freezes in the middle of the street, breath going shallow as he stares, wide-eyed at the alarming number of notifications on his phone. He quickly unlocks it, returning the call, and is immediately met with a dead line. He tries two more times and tries to reign in the panic that seems to want to consume his entire being.

Instead, he takes a deep breath before walking briskly down the block and heading up the stairs of his apartment complex. He’s sure Viktor and _his_ Yuuri will have a clue about what’s going on, but he thinks he should probably get to the privacy of his flat before making that call.

He climbs up the steps, two stairs at a time, and when he finally gets to his front door, he can’t decide if he wants to gasp in surprise or sigh in relief at the sight of Yuri Plisetsky huddled in front of his door, arms wrapped around his knees and face buried in them.

“Yura,” he breathes, and when Yuri whips his head up, Otabek’s heart seizes at the red-rimmed eyes, tear tracks on his cheeks, and pitifully defeated look etched into Yuri's features.

That is, until Yuri fiercely wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, and when he reveals them again, they’re glaring at Otabek with a special kind of iciness he’s only seen a handful of times, including earlier this year when Viktor had forgotten a promise to choreograph a routine for him  _again_. Otabek gulps, but immediately steels himself afterward. He deserves this, he knows. And while he’s simultaneously flattered that Yuri’s come all this way for him and impressed by his strength to take a step forward in a seemingly unsalvageable situation when Otabek didn’t have the courage to, he knows this isn’t the time to comment on it.

“About time,” Yuri grunts, pushing himself up from the floor and immediately crossing his arms over his chest defensively. 

“I’m so sorry, Yuri. I was at practice and—” 

“’s fine. My phone died anyway,” Yuri mumbles, eyes downcast, as he kicks the base of the door with his boot. “You gonna let me in or…?”

“Yes. Of course,” Otabek digs his keys out of his back pocket and holds open the door for Yuri.

“Here, let me take your bag,” he offers, noticing the backpack Yuri’s got slung over his shoulder. Otabek makes to grab the backpack from him, hand brushing with Yuri’s upper back in the process. Yuri tenses, clutching the strap tightly with one hand.

“I got it,” he replies tersely, and Otabek takes it as a sure sign to give him the space he’s asking for in not so many words.

Yuri toes off his shoes and heads towards the living area, seating himself on the far end of the couch and taking up a similar position to the one Otabek had found him in; knees curled into his chest and hands wound around them, socked feet digging into the fabric of the couch. He looks tentative in an almost cat-like way, Otabek thinks, and he takes the body language as a cue to settle himself on the other end of the couch furthest from Yuri. Unlike Yuri’s closed-off position, he makes an effort to convey an air of openness in the way his knees point towards Yuri and his arm rests on the back of the couch.

Otabek takes the few beats of silence, Yuri’s gaze stoically trained on the corner of the coffee table that’s been chipped, as his invitation to instigate. Definitely a fair expectation, considering the way he’d left things off the last time they’d spoken.

Otabek sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and shifts his gaze over to Yuri. A chill goes up his spine when Yuri’s eyes lock onto his almost instantly. 

“Alright. Let’s talk?”

“Mm. You first,” Yuri shoots back, gaze bright and challenging.

Something about the familiarity of it has Otabek stifling a grin, despite the weight of the situation. Yuri must catch it, because Otabek is sure he sees the faint line of an upturned lip on Yuri’s own face before he's squashed it back down into a tight pout.

As small a gesture as it is, and as impossible as the looming conversation had initially seemed, it has Otabek feeling like they might just understand each other enough to get through this.

With that thought fresh in mind, he takes a deep breath and speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a little late! i'll be traveling for the next 3ish weeks, so expect the next one in about a month or so. sorry about that!!! :( i had a little bit of writer's block with this one anyway, so hopefully the break will get the creative juices flowing again. see you guys then! 
> 
> in the mean time, you can always shoot me an ask or msg on tumblr~ yeayeayurio.tumblr.com


	5. just as long as you stand, stand by me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t understand why you’re not taking this more seriously. I tell you I’m pregnant, you fucking hang up on me, and I still go out of my way to fly out here to talk to you and-and— what, you’re not even sorry? Fuck you—”
> 
> Yuri tugs at the grip around his wrist, but he’s exhausted and Otabek’s hand is firm enough to require a bit of a fight.
> 
> The next moment, Yuri is sobbing openly and before he can process what’s happening, Otabek is standing before him, wrapping him up in a solid embrace.
> 
> “Stop—” Yuri cries, weakly banging his fists against Otabek’s chest.

“Yura, look…” Otabek pauses to sigh, lick his lips. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Yuri narrows his eyes and lifts the eyebrow closest to Otabek. “An apology would be nice?” Yuri scoffs and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, anyway. His eyes burn with tears that he doesn’t want to let fall and he unravels himself from the cocoon of his knees, making to get up. Coming here was a mistake, he thinks, sniffling and wiping his nose against his hoodie.

Before Yuri gets further than a step away, Otabek snatches his wrist and gently pulls him back towards the couch.

“ _Yuri_ …” Otabek sighs out again, sounding exasperated and maybe even a little bit amused which instantly puts Yuri on edge.

“I don’t understand why you’re not taking this more seriously. I tell you I’m _pregnant_ , you fucking hang up on me, and I _still_ go out of my way to fly out here to talk to you and-and— what, you’re not even _sorry_? Fuck you—”

Yuri tugs at the grip around his wrist, but he’s exhausted and Otabek’s hand is firm enough to require a bit of a fight.

The next moment, Yuri is sobbing openly and before he can process what’s happening, Otabek is standing before him, wrapping him up in a solid embrace.

“ _Stop_ —” Yuri cries, weakly banging his fists against Otabek’s chest.

“Yura, of _course_ I’m sorry. I was just… surprised. I had every intention of getting back to you, but it’s still no excuse,” Otabek cuts in, rubbing firm, comforting circles along the expanse of Yuri’s back that just make him try to bite back another embarrassing sob that comes out anyway.

“You’d know that if you’d checked one of the one hundred text messages or twenty voicemails I sent you over the last two days,” Otabek continues, pressing a kiss to the crown of Yuri’s head.

Yuri hiccups a soft cry in response. He’d been in such a haze of anger he’d outright ignored any and all efforts of communication Otabek had made between their last Skype session and him arriving in Almaty.

“I _am_ sorry. I really am,” Otabek repeats softly, nudging the side of Yuri’s head with his nose to make Yuri lift his head up.

Yuri meets Otabek’s eyes, tentatively, trying to harden them as much as he can with how wet and bloodshot they must be. Otabek studies his face, a small half-smile slowly forming on his lips.

“Hormones?” he gently prompts, taking the hand that isn’t on Yuri’s back and using it to thumb away some of the wetness underneath his eyes.

Yuri sighs, defeated. “Probably. I feel like I’ve been crying at the drop of a hat for the past month…” he mumbles, giving into instinct and nuzzling his cheek into Otabek’s waiting hand.

Otabek hums sympathetically. “Sounds exhausting,” he says, guiding Yuri’s face with his hand so that their foreheads are resting against one another.

“Yeah. It is,” Yuri concedes while Otabek studies his features, eyes darting across his face in a way that makes Yuri’s cheeks heat up.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just missed you,” Otabek murmurs, eyes finally moving up to meet Yuri’s own.

“Corny,” Yuri rolls his eyes, snaking his hands down to Otabek’s belt loops to thread his thumbs through them. He pats Otabek’s butt, heart warming at how casually couple-y the gesture feels.

Otabek’s eyes soften, lopsided grin gracing his lips and he guides Yuri’s face forward, pressing their lips together in a feather-light kiss. He pulls away almost immediately, but Yuri chases his lips, catching them just in time to deepen it into something more tangible. Otabek hums into the kiss, allowing it to progress into something a little less innocent, with a little more tongue. Yuri’s too tired to let it get any further than that, regretfully pulling away after a few blissfully lazy, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

He’s pressing one last kiss to the side of Otabek’s mouth when something occurs to him.

“So… I’m guessing we can just skip the big relationship talk?” Yuri ventures, earning him a confused look from Otabek, which has Yuri rolling his eyes again.

“The Skate America thing,” Yuri explains. “It was _your_ idea. Waiting to make it official until you could talk to your family or whatever shit excuse it was.”

Otabek’s eyes light up in understanding and he shakes his head against Yuri’s forehead, a small breathy laugh escaping him.

“What? Why is that funny?” Yuri pouts, smacking Otabek’s bum with one of the hands tangled in his belt loops.

“Yura… I think we’re about as official as it gets now,” Otabek grins, somewhat wry, as he traces his hands down the length of Yuri’s back to rest gently on his hips, thumbs going up to trace gentle circles above his pelvis.

Yuri scoffs without bite, his own hands coming up to rest on Otabek’s forearms.

“Just making sure you didn’t still have to run me through a family screening test or whatever before I can call you my boyfriend…” Yuri mumbles and he feels Otabek’s hands tense against his stomach in response. Yuri narrows his eyes, suspicious, heart picking up a bit, and continues, “Unless there’s something you’re not telling—”

“What? Yura, no. No.” Otabek chuckles in a way that sounds like he’s trying to be casual, but there’s something off about it. Yuri cocks his head and is about to question him again when Otabek sweeps foreword to place another soft kiss to his lips. “You don’t have to worry about all of that stuff. I’ll take care of it. Just, for now… let’s talk about what’s really important.” Otabek emphasizes his words by brushing his knuckles across the slight bulge of Yuri’s lower pelvis.

Yuri opens his mouth again to respond, thoroughly confused about what’s just been discussed, when he’s cut off by a loud grumble from deep within his gut.

“But first I guess you want something to eat?” Otabek chuckles again, this time sounding more natural. It puts Yuri at ease, at least for the moment.

Yuri concedes, shaking his head forlornly. “The spawn wants something to eat,” he corrects. “It went from rejecting everything I tried to put in my mouth to doing _this_ if I go longer than two hours without food. I’ve been pounding down protein bars every hour on the hour since getting on the plane…”

Otabek smiles, amused, before pressing a final kiss to Yuri’s forehead and pulling away to head over towards the kitchenette. “I’ll order something in. Come on, I’ve got some takeout menus you can look through.”

Yuri nods, feeling suddenly shy at the picture of domesticity in front of him, thinking guiltily that he could get used to this.

 

 

 

After happily pounding back enough pirozhkis to have Yuri wondering if the distention of his stomach is just a product of _that_ or just actual baby, Yuri finds himself snuggled to Otabek’s side, legs tangled lazily in the sheets of his bed.

“Do you really not get enough priozhski back home? You had to come all the way to Kazakhstan just to eat them?” Otabek teases, fingers softly teasing at his side near his belly.

“Shush. I can’t help it. It’s the… cravings, or whatever, probably,” Yuri grumbles, playfully smacking Otabek’s hand away from him.

“Hmm,” Otabek breathes out and looks contemplative for a moment at that, hand reaching for Yuri’s own to lace their fingers together.

Yuri studies his face for a long moment before reaching out to smooth away a crease that’s appeared between Otabek’s eyebrows.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How far along are you now?” Otabek asks, softly, rubbing his thumb against the soft tissue between Yuri’s own thumb and pointer finger.

“Um… I think almost 17 weeks?”

Otabek swallows audibly. “Have you thought about what you’re going to…? Like, when’s the cut-off for…?” He trails off, clearly uncomfortable, if his hand tensing around Yuri’s is anything to go by.

“Oh,” Yuri breathes out. It’s only now just occurred to him that he’s talked to everyone else in the know about this _but_ Otabek. “I have to… um, by 20 weeks.” Yuri says lowly, heart clenching at the thought of it.

“So… Do you know if you’re going to?” Otabek presses, eyes guarded, staring intently down at their entangled fingers.

“I…” Yuri licks his lips, trying to formulate his thoughts. He hasn’t so much as put his decision into words, but he’s had a gut reaction from the beginning that has his heart racing to beat out of his chest every time he considers it.

He takes in a shaky breath, and breathes it steadily back out before answering quietly. “I don’t think so.”

Otabek inhales sharply. “Really?” he asks, stiff.

Yuri arches an eyebrow, trying to read the cogs turning in Otabek’s head, but he’s keeping his face carefully blank.

“I just… never really considered it an option,” Yuri starts slowly.

“Oh,” Otabek says, plainly.

“I thought it’d be obvious when I withdrew from Skate America. Do you have a problem with that?” Yuri tries not to let his tone get too heated, but his heart is already beating loudly enough in his throat to affect it.

“No,” Otabek interjects quickly, eyes glancing up to meet Yuri’s own, gaze serious. “I swear. I guess I’m just… surprised?”

“ _Why_?”

“I mean, you’re at the top of the figure skating world right now—”

“So? That doesn’t mean I’m incapable of having a conscience—”

“Getting an abortion doesn’t mean you lack _conscience_ , Yura—”

“I know!” Yuri yells, ripping his hand away from Otabek’s hold as if burnt.

Yuri cradles his hand to his chest, breathing heavily. He gulps before repeating, more quietly this time, “I know. Okay?”

Otabek seems to take a moment to catch his breath, too, before responding just as quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yuri replies quickly. “I just… I have my reasons,” he continues, voice still quiet, as images of his grandfather, flashbacks of his childhood skating rink, old photographs of his mother start flitting through his mind’s eye fast enough to make his head pound. He closes his eyes, bringing his fingers up up to his massage his temple.

Otabek lays a tentative hand on Yuri’s bicep. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Yuri sighs, silent for a long moment. “I want to give this baby a chance. Is that okay?”

“Of course that’s okay,” Otabek says barely a beat later, hand an assuring weight on Yuri’s arm.

Yuri opens his mouth then quickly shuts it. He wants to say more. He knows he hasn’t opened up to Otabek about his family situation as much as maybe he should have during all of their years of friendship. But the pounding in his skull, coupled by the sudden bone-deep tiredness that seems to take over his very being has him pocketing the conversation for later.

“I’m tired,” he says instead.

Otabek lifts his eyebrows, clearly surprised at the abrupt end to the conversation, but quickly sets them back in place and nods, understanding.

“It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m gonna take a shower. I have training tomorrow, but you can sleep in. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm.”

Otabek pauses, looks like he’s about to say more, but instead leans down to press a lingering kiss to Yuri’s temple. He starts to pull away but stills when Yuri lifts his chin up, offering his lips. Otabek huffs out an amused breath, accepting the kiss. They trade soft, sleepy kisses for a minute or two before Yuri pulls away first to burrow himself deeply into the blankets.

“Okay. Goodnight,” Yuri slips his eyes shut and smiles at the full-bodied laugh it earns him from Otabek.

“Sleep tight, baby,” Otabek says, a smile in his voice. He runs his thumb over Yuri’s hairline for an indulgent moment before pulling back, soft footsteps padding down the hallway. 

It has been a long day. Yuri’s mind is still reeling trying to process everything, the start of a headache lurking at his temples. But his exhaustion outweighs everything else, and despite all of it, he falls asleep with a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shows up 2.5 months late with starbucks and 6 pages...
> 
> lol if you've read my other chaptered fic you'll already know i'm the world's most inconsistent writer, welcome to my hell. 
> 
> sorry about the wait! i was dry on inspiration for awhile... but finally i think i'm back in the groove~ hopefully i can get back onto a monthly upload schedule from here on out!


	6. darling, darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re showing,” Otabek mumbles, hand mapping out a soft trail against the small bulge.
> 
> Otabek can feel Yuri’s abs tighten at the observation and a short stretch of silence ensues.
> 
> “I guess…” Yuri eventually agrees, sounding uncertain.
> 
> “No, you definitely are,” Otabek confirms.
> 
> After how intimately Otabek had gotten acquainted with Yuri’s body during his heat all those months ago, he’s certain of the changes. It’s slight, but to Otabek, it’s obvious in the way that Yuri’s usually concave belly juts out just past his hipbones, forming a round mass that’s solid to the touch.
> 
> The reality of their situation suddenly hits Otabek like a ton of bricks; there’s a baby in Yuri’s belly. An actual baby that’s only going to stretch the limits of Yuri’s body by the month, eventually growing big enough for the entire world to know about it. The thought fills Otabek with pride and dread all at once; pride from the alpha inside of him, no doubt, that the proof of their pseudo-bond will be on display for everyone to see, but also dread because of the very same thing. Because how the hell is he supposed to convince his mother, convince the rest of his family that it’s anything to be proud of at all?

When Otabek gets home from practice that afternoon, Yuri has migrated from burrowing himself into the sheets on Otabek’s bed, to burrowing himself into the throw blankets on his couch instead.

Otabek smiles to himself, coming behind the couch to gaze down at Yuri’s sleeping form. His face is quite literally smashed in between the backing and the arm of the couch, to the point where Otabek can’t imagine that breathing could be comfortable. He reaches out on instinct to gently cup the side of Yuri’s head that’s against the couch to move it, only to be met with a groan and Yuri cramming his face even more insistently into the furniture.

“Are you _trying_ to suffocate yourself?” Otabek laughs, going around to sit himself on top of the couch’s other armrest.

“Yes, because I can literally _feel_ you doing that gross fucking smile that makes me wanna puke up my guts even more than when I had morning sickness,” comes Yuri’s reply, muffled into the couch cover.

“Damn. Harsh words,” Otabek chuckles. He nudges Yuri’s thighs with his feet until he shifts his legs up into fetal position, allowing Otabek to slide down cross-legged onto one of the cushions.

“I only speak the truth,” comes Yuri’s muffled voice for a second time, but this time Otabek can hear the hint of a smile in it.

Otabek grins and uses the positive shift in Yuri’s mood as a sign to scoop his boyfriend (his _boyfriend_ , Otabek thinks giddily), up by the armpits and into his lap.

Yuri squawks indignantly, his limbs flailing gracelessly as Otabek lightly tickles around his ribs.

“Fuck— _fuck you_!” Yuri gasps in between squeals of laughter. Otabek laughs in turn, one hand sneaking up towards Yuri’s underarm, but Yuri’s reflexes are too quick and he grabs Otabek’s hand, laughing hard as he tries to force it up to his mouth as if to bite down on it.

“Okay, okay, truce! Truce! Don’t bite me, you brat!” Otabek holds his other hand up in mock surrender.

Yuri peeks behind him as if to confirm the defeat before turning back around to place a brief kiss on the inside of Otabek’s palm and laying it down to rest on his tummy.

Otabek’s swears he can feel steam coming out of his ears from how warm the sweet gesture makes him feel.

“You’re cute today,” Otabek says honestly, earning a snort from Yuri in return.

“I’m cute everyday,” he fires back without missing a beat, bringing up a hand to lace with the one Otabek has on his belly.

“True,” Otabek agrees quietly, pressing a soft kiss to Yuri’s ear, then his neck.

Yuri hums, content as a kitten, stretching his neck to allow Otabek access to more skin. Otabek happily obliges, trailing soft kisses down to his collarbone and back up to his earlobe, where he nips it enough to earn a cute giggle from Yuri.

Yuri shifts in his arms, just enough to meet Otabek’s lips and join them in a sweet kiss. Yuri’s hand reaches around to grab at the back of Otabek’s neck, while Otabek’s hands trail down to either side of Yuri’s waist.

“Mm,” Yuri moans softly into the kiss, deepening it just enough for Otabek’s biology to peak interest, even when his muscles protest, longing for a long, hot shower after an intense day of training.

Otabek’s hands inch lower down towards Yuri’s pelvis, fingers experimentally teasing at the waistband of his leggings. He feels Yuri smirk against his lips before he twists around to seat himself in Otabek’s lap.

Once Yuri’s on top of him, he presses their lips together again without preamble, fingers reaching around to run his hands through Otabek’s hair, along his undercut, and eventually down to massage his neck. Otabek groans at the simple but satisfying contact, hands returning to Yuri’s waist and tracking down to his hips, the backs of his thighs, eventually kneading into the firm muscles of his ass.

Yuri jolts in his arms, pulling away from the kiss with shallow breaths, his pupils blown wide and dark.

“Want you,” Yuri mumbles against his lips, emphasizing his point with a roll of his hips against Otabek’s.

“Yeah,” Otabek agrees breathlessly, rolling his hips up in agreement and causing them both to breathe out twin groans.

Otabek wraps his arms around the backs of Yuri’s thighs, and Yuri immediately clings onto the back of Otabek’s neck with his arms as Otabek hauls the two of them up to move them towards the direction of his room.

Yuri distracts him with heated kisses along the way, to his lips, his neck, his earlobes, anywhere he can reach. Otabek squeezes roughly at Yuri’s ass when he bucks his hips against Otabek’s own in a way that sends heat to his groin so suddenly it almost makes him lose his balance.

When Yuri snickers at Otabek’s momentary stumble, Otabek responds by pausing at the wall next to his bedroom door to push Yuri up against it with a gentle _thump_.

He meets Yuri’s gaze, challenging, and Yuri’s eyes light up with something like excitement. They both take a moment to drink in each other’s features. Otabek relishes in the way Yuri’s ears are tinged pink, his face dusted with red that extends all the way down to his neck, blotted in the same way it was the last time they did this during Yuri’s heat. Otabek wants to tear his clothes off, do things that will make him blush all the way down to his toes.

Otabek breaks out of his reverie when Yuri presses his hips up against his again, impatient.

“What? You thinking about fucking me right against this wall?” Yuri says, voice gravelly, as he grabs at the back of Otabek’s neck, urging him to look back up into heated green eyes.

“ _God_ ,” Otabek moans despite himself, because if he wasn’t thinking about fucking Yuri raw against the wall before, he definitely is now.

Otabek tests the idea with a few lazy rolls of his hips up that make Yuri sound out a couple of breathy moans, hands pulling tight at the back of Otabek’s shirt.

“Ah, yeah, Beka,” Yuri urges, hips coming down to grind against Otabek’s still-covered erection. “Fuck me, come on, baby, right here.”

And holy shit, does Otabek want to. He’s a moment away from slipping Yuri’s leggings down just enough to make it happen, one hand supporting Yuri’s ass, the other coming up around his waist when he pauses.

Yuri _whines_ this time, squirming dramatically in Otabek’s arms so that he can make no mistake that Yuri wants nothing more than to be fucked senseless exactly as is, but Otabek can’t help but voice the niggling worry in the back of his mind—

“Is that— _safe_?” Otabek asks, just as Yuri sucks in a breath, surely getting ready to scream at Otabek to get the fuck on with it already; instead, Yuri’s commentary seems to die in his throat and he deflates, eyebrows furrowing together.

Otabek’s hand on Yuri’s waist thumbs at the side of his pelvis while Yuri takes a moment to cutely twist his lips up in thought.

“I— I don’t really know…” Yuri answers eventually, licking his lips and seeming conflicted.

Otabek huffs out a laugh, lips tugging into a dopy grin at the picture in front of him. “Well, let’s not risk it then. The bed should be safe anyway,” Otabek assures, leaning in to press soft kisses to Yuri’s nose, then mouth.

“ _Ew_ ,” Yuri groans into the kiss, “I can literally _feel_ you doing that ugly smile right now…”

“Yeah?” Otabek prompts, teasingly. He steals another kiss from Yuri before readjusting his grip on his thighs to carry him into the room. “Your fault for being cute.” He pecks one final kiss to Yuri’s lips before gently placing him down onto the bed.

Yuri makes an exaggerated gagging noise. “So. Gross,” he complains, shifting up against the pillows near the headboard.

“Gross enough that you don’t wanna have sex anymore?”

Yuri curls his lips into a scowl. “ _No_ , so get a move on and _fuck me_ ,” Yuri practically growls, arms snaking around Otabek’s neck and legs wrapping around Otabek’s hips to pull them solidly up against Yuri’s own.

Otabek grunts as he’s plastered up against Yuri, eyes going wide for a brief moment before he breaks down, laughing openly at the absurdity of the way Yuri has wrapped himself around him, looking a lot like a pouty, needy octopus.

It’s not until after a bout of shouting and a couple of indignant slaps to Otabek’s biceps on Yuri’s part that they manage to get back on track. When they do, Otabek is sure he’s more than made up for any insult he’d done to Yuri’s pride, if the vulgar commentary currently pouring from out of Yuri’s mouth is anything to go by.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Yuri moans, high and breathy in his throat. Yuri is practically bent in half, back resting against a makeshift mountain of pillows as Otabek crowds him higher up towards the headboard with every snap of his hips.

“ _God, yeah, just like that_ ,” Yuri practically screams, and Otabek can’t help but groan in assent, fingernails biting into the skin of the backs of Yuri’s thighs to hoist him higher upwards and burying himself impossibly deeper inside.

“ _Yura_ ,” Otabek moans, catching Yuri’s lips in a sloppy kiss before dragging his own lips along Yuri’s cheeks, his chin, his neck, and finally latching onto the tender skin just below Yuri’s ear, tongue laving teasingly against his bonding gland.

Yuri jerks at the sensation, his legs falling down from Otabek’s shoulders to instead wrap around his lower back, hips bucking up in time with Otabek’s thrusts.

“ _Ah_ …” Yuri groans, voice reverberating with the rhythm of Otabek rocking in and out of his body.

“Hah, Otabek, you can— _please_ —” Yuri pleads, high in his throat, and Otabek starts to pull away from the attention he’s giving to Yuri’s neck, only for Yuri to grab him by the hair and force him back down.

“No, don’t stop, _don’t_ ,” Yuri begs, and Otabek makes a questioning noise, even as he continues to swipe his tongue against the gland, every so often teasing it with his teeth and sucking at the skin.

Yuri cries again, this time sounding more desperate than ever as he grinds his hips down onto Otabek’s cock, hand tightening in Otabek’s hair, inadvertently forcing his teeth harder into soft skin on his neck.

“ _Please, please, Beka, please_ ,” Yuri keens frantically and that’s when it hits him what exactly Yuri’s trying to ask for.

“Babe…” Otabek sighs against Yuri’s skin, head shaking minutely against the underside of Yuri’s jaw.

Yuri cries in earnest at that and Otabek just shakes his head again, this time more firm. “We will. Just not now, okay, baby?” he promises, pressing a weighted kiss to the spot before lifting his head up to level with Yuri’s eyes, the dark flecks of green in his eyes reflecting a deep jade from the glassy tears collecting at the tips of his eyelashes.

“Beka—” Yuri starts to protest, but Otabek steals the plea right out of his mouth with a deep kiss and a hard upward snap of his hips that makes Yuri scream into his mouth.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin and the force in which Yuri tightens around Otabek’s cock is enough to have him seeing white, ears ringing at the force of his orgasm.

As he rides out the last of wave of it, he feels Yuri tense up, shout, and claw against his shoulders before they both gasp, almost in perfect unison. Once they’ve both finished, Otabek makes a concerted effort to fall onto the bed beside Yuri instead of directly on top of him.

“ _God_ , Beka,” Yuri pants at his side and Otabek just lifts his face up enough from the bed to meet Yuri’s eyes and nod his agreement before smashing it back into the mattress, accompanied by the tinkling sound of Yuri’s laughter.

 

 

After a solid half hour of _lounging in their own filth_ , as Yuri had so eloquently put it, he’d finally gotten up in a huff to clean himself off. Otabek had remained firmly in bed, muscles absolutely on fire after the added physical activity on top of his already rigorous training schedule. Otabek considers briefly that maybe he should have held back somewhat since Skate America is just a couple weeks away and his coach is absolutely grinding him into dust and bones at practice since he has to start tapering soon. But then he thinks back to the absolute earth-shattering orgasm he’d just experienced as a result of his carelessness and he’s unable to feel even a shred of regret.

When Yuri returns from his shower, Otabek doesn’t think he’s even moved a couple of centimeters. Yuri snorts, probably thinking the same thing, and tosses a wet rag at Otabek’s face. Otabek splutters and plucks the rag off, groaning at the pull of his overworked muscles as he moves fully onto his side.

“Clean up before that shit dries any more,” Yuri says with a wrinkle in his nose as he climbs back into bed, freshly dressed in a clean pair of boxer-briefs and nothing else.

Otabek hums his response, lazily wiping at the half-dried fluids on his chest; _no thanks to you_ , he wants to tease Yuri, but the taunt dies in his throat when his eyes catch the fall and rise of Yuri’s stomach beside him.

Otabek drops the rag and, transfixed, reaches out to place his palm to the slight distention above Yuri’s pelvis. Yuri whips his head toward Otabek at the touch, and he can see Yuri raising one eyebrow high in question from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re showing,” Otabek mumbles, hand mapping out a soft trail against the small bulge.

Otabek can feel Yuri’s abs tighten at the observation and a short stretch of silence ensues.

“I guess…” Yuri eventually agrees, sounding uncertain.

“No, you definitely are,” Otabek confirms.

After how intimately Otabek had gotten acquainted with Yuri’s body during his heat all those months ago, he’s certain of the changes. It’s slight, but to Otabek, it’s obvious in the way that Yuri’s usually concave belly juts out just past his hipbones, forming a round mass that’s solid to the touch.

The reality of their situation suddenly hits Otabek like a ton of bricks; there’s a _baby_ in Yuri’s belly. An actual baby that’s only going to stretch the limits of Yuri’s body by the month, eventually growing big enough for the entire world to know about it. The thought fills Otabek with pride and dread all at once; pride from the alpha inside of him, no doubt, that the proof of their pseudo-bond will be on display for everyone to see, but also _dread_ because of the very same thing. Because how the hell is he supposed to convince his mother, convince the rest of his family that it’s anything to be proud of at all?

“Hey, Beka…”

Otabek shakes his head at the soft intrusion of Yuri’s voice, willing the thoughts to fade; he has time to think about this, he reminds himself. He has time to fix it, without subjecting Yuri to the blight of his family drama.

“Yeah,” Otabek coughs, hand pausing in its absent stroking along the expanse of Yuri’s stomach. He looks up at Yuri only for him to avert his gaze, a smattering of red painted across his cheeks. “Everything okay?”

“Um… about before… with the whole…” Yuri trails off, gesturing with his pointer finger to the area around his bonding gland.

Otabek’s eyes widen a fraction, curious. “What? Don’t worry about that, Yura. I know it’s easy to get carried away when—” Otabek starts, confused, but Yuri cuts him off.

“No, I…” Yuri’s voice is shaking, Otabek notes.

“Yura?”

Yuri bites his lip, eyes staring down at his stomach, at Otabek’s hand before slowly rising up to meet Otabek’s gaze with confidence.

“I _want_ to, Otabek,” Yuri says quietly, but there’s an intensity behind his words.

Otabek is taken aback but he quickly rights himself, retracting his hand from Yuri’s belly and moving to sit up beside him.

“What? You mean _bond_?” Otabek asks, whispering, like some part of him is paranoid that his mother could be listening in on this conversation even though he knows it’s impossible.

“What, we’re having a baby _that’s_ too crazy an idea for you?” Yuri asks, voice rising with incredulity.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Otabek assures before Yuri can get the wrong idea. “It’s just…” Otabek bites his lip and huffs out a gravelly sigh to buy him some time to prepare his phrasing.

Before he can even get the words out, Yuri cuts in, “Let me guess… your _family_ wouldn’t approve?”

Otabek freezes momentarily before slumping his shoulders forward in defeat. At this point, he knows it must not be a difficult conclusion for Yuri to jump to and the realization has his heart weighing heavy with guilt.

Yuri scoffs and Otabek can _feel_ him roll his eyes without even having to look at him.

“Beka, I’m already pregnant. What more can they do once they find out you’ve bonded on top of that?”

Otabek knows this is a reasonable conclusion, one that he can’t blame Yuri for coming to. He shuts his eyes for a moment to think, but that only makes Yuri click his tongue and sigh out an aggravated, “ _Beka_.”

“Yuri…” Otabek starts, slow. He pauses for a moment to gather his bearings and when he gets no interruptions from Yuri, he continues, “You know my family is Muslim, right?” He pauses again to turn towards Yuri, meeting his eyes. Yuri looks confused for a moment but nods anyway.

“In Islam, we have these things called haraam. They’re basically sins and my family takes them _really_ seriously. Having a baby outside of wedlock is a big one. And since it goes directly against Sharia, the baby couldn’t even technically be considered _mine._ Bonding outside of wedlock is haraam, too.”

Yuri sighs again, clearly confused. “Okay, fine. I mean, I’m already pregnant… what if… what if we just got married?” he tries, voice tinged with desperation so deep that Otabek feels his eyes burn hot with guilty tears. He has to rip his gaze away from Yuri to focus on the wall in front of him to will the pressure in the backs of his eyelids away.

When he doesn’t respond for another minute, Yuri presses, “I know… I know we’re young, but…”

Otabek sighs through his nostrils, bringing the heels of his palms up to massage just above his eye sockets, lips pressing together in a thin line.

“Otabek, _what_?”

Otabek pauses heavily before answering quietly, “That would also be haraam.”

“ _Why_?”

“The baby’s already been conceived. It doesn't count if we get married after the fact." Otabek takes a pause and swallows hard before continuing. "And... you’re not Muslim, Yuri. My family would never go for it,” he explains, voice cracking around the lump in his throat.

Yuri laughs, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“ _So what_?” Yuri practically explodes. “It seems like we’ve committed every major sin there is to commit, so why the hell does any of this shit even matter anymore? I mean, who even fucking _cares_ what you’re family thinks—”

“ _I care what my family thinks_!” Otabek yells before he can stop himself. Yuri goes stiff beside him, a thick silence permeating through the room.

“I’m sorry—” Otabek interjects as soon as he realizes what he’s just done, whipping his head over to Yuri and heart clenching at the thought of pushing him away with his family baggage yet again.

But instead of the disgust, disappointment, or any other number of emotions he’s expecting to see painted on Yuri’s face, he sees a wide-eyed Yuri gazing down at him in earnest concern.

“Beka, it’s— it’s okay,” Yuri says, sounding unsure.

It’s not until Yuri’s hand is on his cheek, wiping away at damp skin that Otabek realizes he’s crying.

“Fuck…” Otabek gasps, scrubbing furiously at his other cheek with the palm of his hand. “Shit, I’m sorry, Yuri—”

“Hey. No, don’t apologize,” Yuri insists, scooting in closer to wrap Otabek up in his arms. “ _I’m_ sorry. Obviously I… I don’t really understand your family situation. Or Islam, really. I didn’t realize it was so important to you.”

“I don’t always want it to be,” Otabek admits quietly. “But I mean… they’re my family. And besides my mom and all of my other relatives, there’s my younger sister and I don’t—” Otabek forces himself to pause, breath quickening at the thought of how him being ostracized from the family would affect _her_ , how she’d felt so abandoned after their father had passed, how Otabek had promised he’d _never_ leave her like that—

“Shh. We don’t have to talk about it now,” Yuri soothes, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Otabek’s neck. “We can figure it out later, okay?”

Otabek opens his mouth, about to apologize again before catching himself.

“Okay. Thank you, Yuri,” he says instead in a raw whisper as exhaustion seeps into his every last vein.

“Of course. Let’s get to bed. You must be exhausted.”

Otabek nods numbly and allows Yuri to tuck him in.

He falls asleep with Yuri curled around his back, the weight of his embrace enveloping everything in warmth except for the icy throb of his heart in his throat.

 

 

Thankfully, the next day is an off-day for Otabek and he and Yuri are able to spend the morning sleeping in and lazing around. Otabek’s still exhausted, both physically and mentally, and he thinks Yuri can tell. He wakes up to Yuri tracing what must be deeply imprinted dark circles under Otabek’s eyes.

They finally force themselves out of bed after exchanging a few gentle, tentative kisses and surveying each other’s faces in a generally comfortable, if not reasonably weighted silence, snippets of their argument from last night hanging in the air.

“When’s the next time I’ll see you?” Yuri asks, digging heartily into his bowl of wheat grain cereal at the breakfast bar.

Otabek hums in thought as he scrapes the eggs he’s cooking off the surface of the frying pan to flip them.

“Rostelecom? Haven't you been staying with your grandpa, anyway?”

“Um, not really. I'll go up there to meet you, but I've basically been staying in St. Petersburg…” Yuri mumbles in between bites.

“Oh,” Otabek says, turning around to shoot Yuri a surprised look.

“What?” Yuri looks caught off-guard by the reaction, mouth full of cereal and half of his spoon.

Otabek shrugs, turning back to his eggs. He’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant, even as worry gnaws at the corners of his mind. “Uh, nothing. I guess I just thought you’d be staying with someone from now on.”

“Otabek, I’m pregnant, not terminally ill. You know that, right? I can take care of myself,” Yuri deadpans, clearly having caught on. They know each other too well at this point, Otabek thinks, amused.

“Obviously,” Otabek returns, separating the eggs and plating them on two dishes. “But wouldn’t it be helpful to have someone around, just in case?” he continues, setting one of the dishes in front of Yuri.

Yuri digs into the eggs with fervor as soon as they’ve been set down. Otabek is tempted to comment on the fact that he hasn’t even finished chewing his last bite of cereal yet, but bites his tongue.

Otabek takes a seat across from Yuri and starts on his eggs, eyeing Yuri as he scarfs one of his down before finally replying.

“Katsudon’s been helping me. He takes me to my appointments,” Yuri supplies, matter-of-factly.

“Good. Don’t hesitate to ask him and Viktor for help,” Otabek nods, pleased with the answer.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, mom,” Yuri rolls his eyes, the hint of grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Otabek smiles into his next bite of his eggs, and vaguely realizes the icy pull of anxiety from the night before has finally started to slip away on its own.

 

 

“Call me if you need anything at all, okay? Just remember I’m flying to Washington next week.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I will, I got it, blah blah blah,” Yuri rattles off as they walk towards the security check.

Otabek nudges his shoulder good-naturedly before glancing around covertly. When he sees no suspicious phones pointed in their direction, he laces his arm with Yuri’s. The angelic smile Yuri sends up his way in response has his heart skipping a beat.

When they get to the security line they pause in a low traffic corner so Otabek can send him on his way.

They trade whispered _good luck_ ’s, _get plenty of rest_ ’s between each other, Otabek’s hand squeezing gently at Yuri’s shoulder and Yuri’s hand stroking at Otabek’s elbow.

A companionable silence stretches between them as they pause for a moment to drink in each other’s faces in person for what will be the last time in over a month, Otabek realizes forlornly.

“I’ll miss you,” Otabek’s the first one to break the silence and Yuri’s eyes get glassy almost instantly.

Yuri’s nose and eyebrows scrunch up like he’s about to cry but before Otabek can confirm it, he’s burying his face in Otabek’s chest and wrapping his arms around his middle in a tight hug.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Yuri’s muffled voice croaks out.

“I’ll Skype you every chance I get,” Otabek promises, rubbing firm circles into Yuri’s upper back.

“You better,” Yuri sniffs, rubbing his face against Otabek’s jacket in an obvious move to wipe away whatever tears had fallen.

Otabek smiles sadly down at Yuri when he finally reveals his face to him, eyes and nose lined with red.

“Ugh,” Yuri groans. “These stupid fucking hormones.”

“Just admit it’s because of how much you’ll miss me,” Otabek replies smugly, earning a weak slap to his chest for it.

Yuri then pauses, glances around them for a long moment, and Otabek is about to question why before Yuri’s grabbing his wrist and leading him into an alcove kiddy-corner from the security check, between a bathroom and a pole.

Otabek instantly recognizes it as the place he’d sent off Yuri with a kiss after his summer visit had come to an end.

He wastes no time in leaning down to brush lips with Yuri in a tender kiss.

“Safe flight, Yura,” he whispers close to his lips, taking the opportunity to press them together again.

“Yeah. Don’t fuck up at your first event of the season. We’ll be watching,” Yuri glances shyly down at his belly and Otabek’s follows the movement, eyes going wide. Then, he feels his mouth split into a grin he _knows_ he’s about to get yelled at for.

“Ugh! Moment over. I’m leaving. Bye.” Yuri rolls his eyes in a big, dramatic circle, but he’s clearly trying to hide a smile of his own from the way his lips twitch up at the corners.

Otabek watches as Yuri turns on his heel to walk over to the security line and a split-second before he disappears around the corner, Otabek yells on a laugh, “I’ll make you both proud!”

Yuri pauses, shakes his head, and glances over his shoulder with the hint of a smile and a thumbs up.

Otabek returns it with a smile of his own, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to him – and really, it probably is, he thinks, heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i got anything wrong with islam, please tell me!!! i was a bit hesitant to mention sharia law, bc the western media really skews those rules as extremist, but from what i've read up on, most muslims practice it within their families/communities. and the law i'm specifically referring to is when a baby is born from zina (sex out of wedlock), the father has no "legal" rights to it/vice versa and it inherits its mother's name, traits, etc.
> 
> *fyi - originally, a line in this chapter implied that yuri marrying otabek would be haraam, but that's inaccurate. i've changed it now to reflect that the conception of the baby out of wedlock is haraam, but that otabek's family would just disapprove of him marrying outside of the faith :)
> 
> anyway, this chapter was a pleasure to write! i also outlined the rest of the plot, so things should pick up from here on out~ and i'm gonna try to update weekly or bi-weekly!
> 
> thanks so much for reading, comments are very appreciated! would love to hear your thoughts on this one.... especially since i know people have had very strong opinions of otabek so far lol :)


	7. if the sky that we look upon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You sure seem to know a lot about this baby stuff,” Yuri wastes no time in pointing out. This isn’t the first time Katsuki’s slammed him with randomly specific baby knowledge from left field and he’s been getting suspicious.
> 
> Other Yuuri’s smile falters and he scratches at the side of his cheek. “Ah, well…”
> 
> “What are you not telling me?” Yuri presses, eyes narrowing. “I’m not stupid, obviously you sent Viktor out of the room for a reason.”
> 
> Katsuki sighs, melting back into the couch. He’s quiet for a moment, reaching a hand over to idly pat Makkachin’s head.
> 
> He sighs, finally conceding with a halting explanation. “Remember right after World’s last year? How I took time time off from ice training for a few months because of tendonitis?”
> 
> Yuri nods, quickly putting the pieces together. “It wasn’t tendonitis… was it?” he asks slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER - in the end notes because of spoilers. Scroll down if you'd like to see it before reading.

“So there’s the head,” the doctor points to the ultrasound image on the screen and Viktor squeals so high, Yuri is pretty sure he’s just an octave shy of being hearable only by dogs.

Katsuki seems amused by it, though, and sends his fiancé a sickeningly sweet smile before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Whose baby is this, anyway?” Yuri rolls his eyes before shooting the lovebirds a dirty look.

“I’m sorry Yurio, I don’t mean to draw focus away from your special moment,” Viktor sniffs dramatically and dabs at his eyes with a tissue he’s procured from seemingly nowhere. “I’m just so oh so excited to be seeing my _god child_ for the first time!” Viktor exclaims, wrapping his arms around other Yuuri, who in turn, pats his back.

“ _Your_ god child? Who said I’m making _you two_ idiots its god parents?” Yuri narrows his eyes at the couple, lip curling in distaste.

“ _Yura!_ ” Viktor cries with a pout and Katsudon shoots Yuri a long look, as if to say _don’t rile him up_. Yuri shoots him back one that he hopes says _your man-baby fiancé isn’t_ my _problem._

“Would you like to find out the sex?” the doctor cuts in, shifting the press of the ultrasound wand to the center of Yuri’s belly, which is protruding noticeably further from his pelvis at twenty weeks.

Yuri focuses his gaze back to the screen, eyes scanning the grainy image of his baby. _His baby_. It still doesn’t feel real, despite the fact that he’s literally staring at the proof of its existence. Not that the rapid growth his belly had seen over the past month could be misconstrued as anything other than _pregnant_.

Viktor makes an excited squeaking sound beside him and Yuri can see him erratically shake his head ‘yes’ in his peripheral, to which Katsuki immediately bats his arm and shushes him for. They exchange a suspiciously weighted look after that, ending with Viktor chewing at his lip and casting his gaze to the side, Katsuki lacing their hands together.

“Um, no thanks,” Yuri finally says, much to Viktor’s displeasure if the forlorn groan of _‘Why not?’_ speaks for anything. Yuri just shoots him a glare and a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t be rude, he already told us he doesn’t want to find out if Otabek’s not here,” other Yuuri chides lightly and Viktor physically deflates at the reprimand.

“I know, I know… I just get excited… it’s an exciting time!” Viktor perks up again, reaching a hand over to pat at Yuri’s belly, Yuri promptly slapping it away.

“Yeah, maybe when you don’t have to bake the thing,” Yuri grumbles in perfect time with the side of his stomach cramping up. “Ow…” he grunts, rubbing at the tight muscle.

“Ah, Braxton hicks,” the doctor immediately supplies, repositioning the wand a little lower on Yuri’s stomach. “See that thick line under the baby? How it creates a bit of a mound? That’s your placenta. It’s just moved from the contraction of the uterus.”

“Ah, I thought that’s what it was…” fake Yuuri mutters, readjusting his glasses like _he’s_ the doctor here. Yuri had been experiencing these cramps for the latter half of the month and Katsuki seemed to be strangely insistent that it had to be some kind of pre-labor contraction. Yuri was pretty sure it was just bad gas pain (yet another fun symptom of his pregnancy as of late) but he guesses he’ll have to hand it to Katsuki this time.

“It’s very normal. It doesn’t hurt too bad?” the doctor directs to Yuri.

“I mean, it’s not _pleasant_ ,” Yuri mumbles.

“Well, in any case it’s nothing to worry about. Shall we say goodbye to the baby for now?” the doctor asks, side-eyeing Viktor with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Oh, oh! Goodbye, little one! Uncle Viktor can’t wait to meet you—!" 

“Shut it down,” Yuri grits through his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the suspiciously amused look the doctor has on her face in response to Viktor’s antics. Yuri’s not sure he likes how much delight this doctor seems to get from his pain.

 

 

“Wow,” Otabek says, sounding mystified, a soft smile on his lips. “Baby’s getting big enough to actually start looking like a baby, huh?”

Yuri snorts, removing the picture of the ultrasound from out of frame.

“Yeah, tell me about it… I’ve been wearing Katsudon’s fat clothes for the past week. Nothing fucking fits anymore,” Yuri whines, tugging at the waistband of Katsuki’s off-season track pants. Even _those_ are starting to bite uncomfortably into his belly.

Otabek’s eyes light up. “Belly update?”

Yuri sighs, long and hard. He should have never brought it up. Ever since the first time he’d complained about his clothes getting too tight to Otabek about three weeks ago, he’d become insistent on getting a weekly progress report of Yuri’s ever-growing girth.

He stands up from the bed anyway, turning sideways and lifting up his shirt over the roundness of his stomach.

“Update’s in, I’m fat and getting fatter by the day,” Yuri bites out sarcastically before turning around to face forward and dropping his oversized T-shirt with an exaggerated flick of the wrists.

“Wait, wait, lift your shirt back up,” Otabek presses, just as Yuri’s about to settle back onto the bed.

“Ugh, _why_?”

“Just do it.”

Yuri rolls his eyes so hard his eyelids flutter a bit, but he hauls his knee up off the bed and does as Otabek asked anyway.

“Are those pants too tight?”

“ _Beka_!” Yuri cries, immediately dropping his shirt again and diving forward onto the bed to bury his face into the mattress. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Otabek chuckles reverberate through the laptop speakers. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be mean, I promise. It just looked kind of red at the waistband is all.”

Yuri collects himself and repositions himself on the bed to sit cross-legged. He lifts his shirt up just enough to gather it at the waistband of the track pants. They’re digging into his skin just enough to be slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t realize it was _that_ noticeable.

“Ugh. These are Katsudon’s fat pants. I must be getting fucking _huge_ if I’m starting to outgrow them…”

“First of all, that’s kind of how growing a baby works,” Otabek replies, a half-smirk on his lips that Yuri really wants to slap off of his face. “ _Second of all_ , you look adorable with a baby bump. But maybe it’s time to go shopping for new clothes.”

Yuri clicks his tongue. “It’s embarrassing… and I don’t want paparazzi seeing me shopping for maternity shit. They’re already hounding me whenever I go to the rink.”

Otabek hums, considering. They’d had this discussion after Otabek won his silver at Skate America where he was equally harassed by reporters regarding the _Mysterious Disappearance of Yuri Plisetsky_.

“Buy some stuff online,” Otabek suggests after a pensive moment.

“Yeah, I will. I just don’t really know where to start I guess,” Yuri sighs, now hyper-aware of the way Katsuki’s pants dig into the fleshiest part of his tummy.

“I’ll help after you two finish up.”

Yuri jumps and whips his head over his shoulder, ponytail slapping him in the face, to find Katsuki leaning against the doorframe with a laundry basket propped up on his hip.

“ _Ugh_ , have you two idiots have no sense of privacy?” Yuri moans, dragging his hands down his face. Otabek snickers and Yuri narrows his eyes at the screen from between his fingers.

“Well, this is _our_ apartment and you _did_ leave the door wide open,” other Yuuri lilts as he sifts through the laundry basket. He pulls out a few of pairs of boxer briefs Yuri recognizes as his own and balls them up before tossing them onto the bed. “You’ve been leaving your underwear in the bathroom so I threw them in with the last wash. You’re welcome!” Katsuki singsongs the last words as he turns on his heels and saunters away from the guest room.

“I have got to get back to my own apartment…” Yuri drops sideways onto the bed, burying his face into a pillow.

“How long have you been staying there now? Did you end up bringing Potya over?”

“Like a week. Yeah, she’s here. Probably napping with Viktor… she loves him, I have no idea where she got such terrible taste in people from.”

Otabek just grins in response, eyes going soft and crinkling up a bit at the corners.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s cute.”

“ _What_?”

“The family dynamic the three of you have going on. It’s almost like you’re their—”

“Otabek Omaruly Altin, don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence,” Yuri warns, an eyebrow raising in challenge.

Otabek raises an eyebrow of his own, lips twitching like he wants to laugh. Yuri is about to comment on it when Otabek cuts him off.

“I better get going, it’s getting late here.” Yuri glances at the clock; it’s eight in Petersburg and three hours ahead in Almaty, so he supposes that’s fair.

“’Kay. Call me tomorrow night if you can. ‘Night.”

“Goodnight, Yura. Have fun maternity clothes shopping with mom!” Otabek slips in at the last second, clearly trying to stifle a laugh before he cuts the connection.

Yuri blinks at the screen, eyes wide and mouth dropping open.

“Asshole!” he shouts on a laugh, whipping a pillow at his laptop.

 

 

“Alright Katsudon, where do I buy these fat clothes from?” Yuri sits himself between Katsuki and Viktor on the couch, Makkachin immediately jumping up from his position on Viktor’s lap to cuddle up to Yuri’s side.

Viktor lets out a pathetic little whine of, “Makka, you traitor!” and Yuri sticks out his tongue, scratching Makkachin behind the ears.

Katsuki takes Yuri’s laptop from his hands, typing something in the search bar.

“Well, to answer your question, you have to understand that there’s no such thing as _fat clothes_. They’re just clothes. But _maternity_ clothes are very different,” Katsuki gives Yuri a reprimanding look that has him shrinking back against the couch feeling weirdly guilty.

Katsuki’s finger pauses above the enter key and hovers there for a moment. He pauses, then turns his head to Viktor who’s pulling a sulking face at Makkachin from the other end of the couch.

“Ah— sweetie, why don’t you go take a shower? We have to get up early tomorrow, so I don’t think you’ll have time in the morning,” Katsuki suggests with a smile, but the steadiness of his gaze is suspicious.

Viktor tilts his head, opens his mouth, and then some kind of understanding lights up in his eyes before he finally replies, “Ah, you’re right solnyshko! I completely forgot. I’ll be on my bed having a cuddle with Potya afterwards if you need me,” Viktor directs the last sentiment at Yuri with a cheeky wink that has him wrinkling his nose up in distaste.

Viktor practically skips out of the room, humming the tune of Katsudon’s free skate music.

“God, he’s an annoying prick,” Yuri mutters under his breath.

Katsuki chuckles as he finally hits the enter key and resumes typing. “Yeah, but he’s _my_ annoying prick.”

“Watch it Katsudon, you’re close second.”

Katsuki cranes his head towards Yuri and gives him a deadpan look. “Do you _want_ my help or do you just want to sit here insulting me instead?”

Yuri scoffs. “Fine. Solid fourth after J.J. and Chulanont.”

“Ha, ha. Here,” other Yuuri shifts the laptop on so Yuri can see the website he’s pulled up. It’s some maternity website with pictures of pregnant omegas showing off their baby bumps in trendy outfits.

“You’ll probably want some belly bands,” Katsuki mumbles, clicking around on the webpage until he comes to a page showcasing pregnant bellies of various stages wrapped in some sort of stretchy fabric. He must see the confused look Yuri is giving him from his peripheral because he continues, “They’re for back support. You’re going to need it. And so you don’t have to keep sizing up clothing. Oh hey look, a tiger print one. Add to cart?”

Katsuki turns to Yuri, an expectant smile on his face. Yuri returns the look with a single raised eyebrow.

“You sure seem to know a lot about this baby stuff,” Yuri wastes no time in pointing out. This isn’t the first time Katsuki’s slammed him with randomly specific baby knowledge from left field and he’s been getting suspicious.

Other Yuuri’s smile falters and he scratches at the side of his cheek. “Ah, well…”

“What are you not telling me?” Yuri presses, eyes narrowing. “I’m not stupid, obviously you sent Viktor out of the room for a reason.”

Katsuki sighs, melting back into the couch. He’s quiet for a moment, reaching a hand over to idly pat Makkachin’s head.

He sighs, finally conceding with a halting explanation. “Remember right after World’s last year? How I took off from ice training for a few months because of tendonitis?”

Yuri nods, quickly putting the pieces together. “It wasn’t tendonitis… was it?” he asks slowly.

Katsuki bites his lower lip, staring unseeingly down at Makkachin. After a short moment of silence, he shakes his head minutely. “No,” he says quietly.

“You were…?”

“Mhm,” Katsuki hums, eyes getting a little glassy.

“Do you…” Yuri starts, but his voice gets caught on a cough. “Do you wanna talk about it, or?” Yuri mumbles. He has a hard time with the empathy thing, but he finds himself genuinely wanting to try it out.

“Yeah, um. Sorry, I’d been planning to tell you anyway. No one besides Viktor and my family knows, so I’m just not really used to… talking about it I guess,” other Yuuri shrugs, sheepishly, gingerly wiping at his eyes with a finger before turning back to Yuri with a humorless huff of laughter.

“Um, it’s… okay. Take your time. I guess,” Yuri says, crossing him arms over his belly, suddenly feeling awkward about it being there for this conversation.

“Thanks, Yurio,” Katsuki replies quietly, drawing in a breath as if trying to steady himself. “Um, we found out right after World’s. I was supposed to get my heat right after that and I missed it, so. I took a test. _A lot_ of tests, actually. And obviously they were positive.”

Yuri nods, humming out a quiet laugh. He knows that feeling. Other Yuuri returns it with a small, knowing smile.

“We went to the doctor and I ended being about fifteen weeks by that point… obviously had I known, I never would have never competed at World’s, but…”

“I guess it’s kind of impressive you managed to pull off a silver medal in retrospect then,” Yuri smirks, lighthearted, and that actually gets a small chuckle out of Katsuki.

“Well, thanks for the praise, even if it’s overdue,” Katsuki returns, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes. The next moment, though, they’re dulling down as he dives back into his story. “We talked about getting an abortion. It was going to be a busy season for us and it _definitely_ wasn’t a very logical time to be starting a family, but… in the end, it just didn’t sit right with us. So we decided to keep it.”

The sad smile stretching onto Katsuki’s lips tugs at Yuri’s heartstrings.

“We were working up the courage to tell everyone for a long time. That was only a few months after Viktor had announced he’d be returning to competition, but he was pretty adamant about retracting his statement. I didn’t want him to, so we were kind of fighting about it a lot…” Katsuki trails off and Yuri vaguely recalls the odd air of tension surrounding the two of them last year on the days Viktor came into the rink to work on the ice and Katsuki tagged along to use the dance studio. He also remembers relentlessly teasing Katsudon for the amount of weight he’d put on during that time and it makes his heart tighten guiltily.

“We’d already started preparing for the baby and everything. Maternity clothes, baby clothes, supplies, all of that stuff… we were going to tell everyone after the twenty-week appointment. We were kind of off-schedule, so we ended up having it when I was around twenty-three weeks. But…” here, Katsuki gets a far-away look in his eyes and pauses meaningfully. Yuri’s heart sinks; he’s currently just a couple of weeks shy of twenty-three weeks himself.

Katsuki’s throat works and he shuts his eyes in a clear effort to hold back tears. “They couldn’t find a heartbeat,” he says thickly. His hand makes it halfway to his stomach as if on autopilot, but it twitches and he rests it on his thigh instead.

“Katsudon…” Yuri breathes, his own voice heavy with emotion.

“Um,” Katsuki’s eyes blink rapidly, tears pooling in the corners. He sniffs, wiping at his right eye as soon as a tear escapes. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he hiccups and Yuri’s throat tightens in turn.

“Don’t apologize,” Yuri pleads, voice hoarse, desperate.

“That’s what Viktor said after—” Katsuki cuts himself off with a bitter laugh, wiping at both eyes with his palms. “Nevermind. But, um. They induced labor right after that. So I— I had the baby. It was a girl. Miharu Viktorovna.”

Yuri’s throat works. He wants to say _something, anything_ to comfort Katsuki as he sniffles and removes his glasses to wipe properly at the tears falling from his eyes in earnest now. Yuri opens his mouth to try and speak, but Makkachin beats him to it with a whine as he steps over Yuri’s legs to cuddle up to Katsuki and lap at his face.

“I’m sorry I never told you. We were just… I don’t know. It was hard… obviously,” Katsuki says, voice gravelly with emotion. “We donated all of the clothes and supplies we’d bought, otherwise we would have given them to you. It was just… it was hard to look at.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Yuri supplies without a second thought. “Why didn’t you take the season off? Were you _okay_? I mean, obviously not, but…” Yuri trails off, trying to wrap his head around the fact that after all of that, he and Viktor _still_ went on to compete in the following season, and were the couple to beat to boot, as evidenced by their one-two GPF finishes.

Katsuki sighs out a long breath, focusing on methodically brushing his hands down Makkachin’s neck, as if trying to ground himself. He licks his lips before responding, “I think we both really needed the distraction. It wasn’t always a good thing and honestly we probably used it as an excuse to kind of live in denial and repress everything that had happened… but at the time, I think we just needed the chance to throw ourselves into something other than… grieving, I guess.”

Yuri hums thoughtfully. He’d noticed something had been off about his and Viktor’s interactions during the previous season, but he’d just thought it was the pressure of having to compete against each other again after being on the same team for so long.

“We started seeing a counselor after last year’s GPF. It’s helped,” Katsuki says, wiping an eye against his shoulder before sending a watery smile towards Yuri. “If you _ever_ need to talk to someone, let me know,” he continues, placing a warm hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “It can be me, or I can go to a counselor with you, or whatever. I know what you’re going through isn’t easy, and I want to help you as much as I—”

“Yuuri,” Yuri interjects and the feeling of his own name rolling off his tongue is strange. Other Yuuri starts, clearly just as baffled by it. Yuri resists the urge to roll his eyes; he’s trying to be as respectful as he can be here, he really is.

“You _are_ helping,” Yuri continues, laying a tentative hand on top of the one Katsuki has on his shoulder. “I’m so fucking sorry that… that you had to go through _that_ ,” he swallows. “And I’m really sorry you have to sit here and watch _me_ do this when, um… when it didn’t work out for you,” he averts his gaze at the last part, cheeks heating up and eyes stinging with unshed tears. “If it’s ever too much, just… don’t feel like you have to, like… pretend that it’s not,” he finishes lamely, sniffling a little bit.

Katsuki wraps his fingers around Yuri’s hand and squeezes.

“Thank you, Yuri. That means a lot.”

Yuri ducks his head in a nod, unsure of how to respond. Thankfully Katsuki does him a solid and with one final squeeze to Yuri’s hand, lets go and says, “Alright, that’s enough crying for one night. Do you want some ice cream or something? We can snack while we shop.” He hands Yuri the laptop back and shoos Makkachin off his lap before standing up and heading to the kitchen.

Yuri makes an affirmative sound and glances back to see Katsuki wiping at his eyes again; Yuri takes the chance to do the same. His heart still sits heavy in his chest, but rather than gripped by icy dread, it feels warmed over with the knowledge that Katsuki had trusted him enough to share something so personal with him.

Yuri is clicking around absently on the laptop when he hears Viktor’s voice, eerily soft at the corner of the kitchen and the hallway.

“Did you talk to him?” comes Viktor’s gentle question, and Yuri sees him rubbing Katsudon’s arms from his peripheral.

“Yeah…”

“How are you doing?”

“Not great, but… I’m okay.”

A short silence ensues and then Yuri hears a quiet smack of lips that he’d usually make a show of gagging over, but somehow finds it easy to resist this time.

“I’m proud of you, zolotse. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

Yuri finds himself disturbingly touched by the moment and when he peeks behind him to see the pair wrapped up in a loving embrace, he’s surprised to find his eyes welling up yet _again_.

“Viktor—” Yuri calls behind his shoulder before he can help himself. The two part from their hug, but their hands stay at each other’s waists. “Uh. Wanna… help us shop for baby stuff?” he has to grit his teeth to get out the request, but he gives himself a mental pat on the back for effort. It’s not like he _hates_ Viktor, but old habits die hard and the habit of acting like Viktor is the most abhorrent human on the planet is one that Yuri knows won’t go easily.

Viktor gasps and his eyes light up. He looks back and forth between the two Yu(u)ri’s, as if awaiting confirmation. The next time he glances at his Yuuri, Katsuki laughs softly and nods his approval before departing back to the kitchen with a kiss to Viktor’s cheek.

“I’d _love_ to! I have _so_ many ideas for cute little baby outfits already!” Viktor cries, bounding over to the living room, Makkachin bouncing at his heels.

This time Yuri doesn’t suppress the urge to roll his eyes as Viktor plops next to him on the couch. “Don’t push it, old man…” Yuri grumbles, but he knows he’s smiling. Viktor returns the smile with one of his own, giving Yuri a meaningful look and wrapping an arm around his back to squeeze his neck affectionately. Yuri returns the gesture with a light elbow to Viktor’s ribs.

“Who wants ice cream?” Katsuki comes around to the other side of the couch, carrying a tray of three bowls that Makkachin immediately tries to jump at.

“Hey, no ice cream for puppies!” Viktor gushes in that annoying baby voice he uses with his dog, removing his arm from Yuri’s back to rough house with Makkachin a little bit.

Other Yuuri laughs and hands Yuri his bowl of ice cream.

“Shouldn’t you be avoiding sugar now that the season’s started?” Yuri says with a tentative smirk, accepting the bowl from Katsuki.

“Shouldn’t _you_ be looking for clothes that actually fit?” Katsuki fires back, one eyebrow raised delicately as he gestures pointedly with his head to Yuri’s belly. “I don’t think _I’m_ the one who needs to be worried about fitting into my clothes for once.”

Yuri laughs out a surprised scoff. “Damn, Katsudon. How did you learn how to clap-back?”

“Hey, I learned from the master,” he winks at Yuri, and Yuri _actually_ laughs at that.

Yuri spends the next two hours in a position that just a few weeks ago he would have absolutely dreaded; crammed in between Katsuki and Viktor, shopping for maternity clothes and baby supplies, of all things. But somehow, even when Viktor and Katsuki hound him with _terrible_ fashion advice, Yuri finds himself genuinely enjoying their company… but if they ever call him out on it, Yuri is _definitely_ going to blame it on the hormones making him go soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING - discussion of still-birth. Not graphic, but lengthy.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes - will go back and read tomorrow to fix them...
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for your comments, suggestions, corrections, etc. in the last chapter. I appreciate every single one of them and they really inspire me to continue this story. 3 chapters in 3 weeks is like UNHEARD OF for me, so thank you so so much for your support!!! <3


	8. should tumble and fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other Yuuri nods in agreement and Viktor responds with a very loud, “It’s incredible!”
> 
> “What’s incredible?”
> 
> Otabek’s head snaps to the doorway and he immediately curses himself for not having locked it. His sister is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded expectantly over her chest.
> 
> “You’ve been holed up in here for like two hours, Beka. You promised me we’d go see a movie before you—“
> 
> “Ahh, there it is again! This baby is going to be a martial artist!”
> 
> Otabek winces at Viktor’s very excited, very loud voice reverberating through the room.
> 
> “Is that Viktor Nikiforov?” Irina physically perks up and bounds over to Otabek’s side before he can even think about whether or not slamming the laptop screen shut is a good idea.

“You’re really getting big, huh?”

Yuri’s nose wrinkles and he narrows an eye at Otabek through the camera.

“You really know how to make a pregnant person feel good about themself, huh, asshole?” Yuri sneers, self-consciously readjusting the elastic band over his belly and forcefully tugging his shirt back down.

Otabek laughs, surprised. “We’ve talked about this, babe. It’s _a good thing_.”

Yuri huffs. “That still doesn’t mean it makes me feel any better about turning into a fucking whale.”

“You’re hardly a whale yet,” Otabek chuckles.

“Yeah. _Yet_ ,” Yuri sighs, flopping back against the pillows and massaging his lower tummy with his palm.

Otabek’s eyebrows crease together. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just gas,” Yuri grumbles, repositioning himself so that he’s lying sideways, belly following the trajectory in a way that makes it look even _bigger_ ; it’s cute, Otabek thinks, but he knows when to end a conversation about Yuri’s ever-growing girth.

“How’s home? I can’t believe you actually went. Isn’t it a little late to celebrate you birthday, anyway? It was like two weeks ago… and you’re right in between NHK and Rostelecom… you’re nuts,” Yuri swiftly changes the subject with a raised eyebrow.

Otabek sighs, a hand coming up to rub his temple.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I haven't seen my sister in a few months, you know that. She was… asking for me, I guess. My mom had to pick up another nurse’s shifts this week so she’s been busy at the hospital. It’s basically just been Irina and I anyways.”

Yuri bites his lip and winces, pressing more firmly to the underside of his belly. Otabek’s about to ask about it, but Yuri seems to catch the thought before Otabek can even open his mouth and waves it off.

“Mm. Whatever, as long as you’ll be okay at Rostelecom in a few days,” he finally says.

“You know I’ll be fine. I was fine at NHK, wasn’t I?” Otabek supplies, allowing himself a proud moment to showboat with a lopsided grin.

A slow smile emerges on Yuri’s face and he snickers, eyeing something out of frame, before he calls out, “True – you did beat Katsudon for gold by a _full five points on his home turf_!”

“ _Go to hell, Yurio!_ ” comes the sugary sweet sing-song-y reply from somewhere else in the apartment, tinny through Otabek’s laptop speakers.

“Cut him a break, Yura. He was great competition,” Otabek reprimands, but he’s still smiling.

“Not great enough to— oof,” Yuri pauses mid-sentence, hand stilling where it had been kneading at his belly.

“Yuri?” Otabek asks, tensing as Yuri’s expression goes through a myriad of different emotions; pained, surprised, worried, before finally landing on something like awe.

“What’s going—?”

“Sh, sh. Shut up, just…” Yuri trails off, moving from his position on his side to facing forward, both hands mapping out the expanse of his belly as if searching for something until—

“Ohh… oh my god,” Yuri whispers, voice wavering. He bites his lip, locking eyes with Otabek on screen.

"What’s—?” Otabek tries again, only to be immediately interrupted.

“Beka, they’re _kicking_! I can totally feel—” Yuri cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, hand trailing to the spot on his lower belly that he was kneading beforehand.

Otabek lets out a surprised huff of air, a large smile overtaking his lips.

“Wow. You sure it’s not the gas?” Otabek says, transfixed on the spot where Yuri is feeling out his tummy, feeling stupidly jealous that _Yuri_ gets to feel it and he doesn’t.

Yuri shoots him a look, but he’s still smiling, too.

“Yes, I’m _sure_. I thought it felt weird before, but… now I can feel… it’s totally like a kick, it’s weird— _Katsudon! Viktor!_ ” Yuri yells turns to yell off-screen again.

The pair comes stumbling into the room almost immediately, Otabek snorting at their worried pandering off-camera.

“Yurio, what’s wrong? Does something hurt? Do you need a doctor? What should—”

Viktor’s borderline incoherent babbling is cut off sharply when Yuri shushes him.

“Shut up, just give me your hands. Both of you,” Yuri instructs and the pair approach him on either side of the bed.

Katsuki makes himself comfortable at Yuri’s side, scooting in close to him on the bed. The scene makes Otabek’s heart warm over, but clench with jealousy when Yuri grabs Katsuki's hand and starts to position it over his stomach. Katsuki’s gaze flickers over to the screen, eyes going wide for a moment before he withdraws his hand slightly from Yuri’s grip.

“Ah, hi Otabek!” Katsuki chimes in and Viktor’s eyes light up before he examines the screen, too, a heart-shaped smile forming on his lips as he waves an enthusiastic greeting.

Otabek lifts a simple hand in acknowledgement.

“Um, Otabek do you mind…?” Katsuki trails off, gesturing over to Yuri's belly with the hand that Yuri still has a loose grip on.

Yuri scoffs. “What, are you actually asking my boyfriend permission to _touch_ me? I know Viktor gets creepily over-protective of you, but Beka’s not like that—”

Viktor interjects with a wounded “ _hey_!” as Katsuki backtracks, face reddening.

“ _No_! No, it’s not that at all. Just, if the baby’s moving, I feel bad that Otabek can’t be here to feel it before we do…” Katsuki gestures guiltily between him and Viktor.

Otabek smiles, a bit sadly, but he appreciates Katsuki’s foresight into the matter. “Go ahead. I’ll be over in a couple days anyways.”

Katsuki smiles and nods at him and then Yuri is tugging his hand forward and placing it on his belly. Viktor tentatively approaches, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. Yuri rolls his eyes and gestures for Viktor to join in, too; the puppy-ish excitement that exudes from his expression as a result makes Otabek chuckle quietly.

“Wow!” Viktor is the first one to respond to the baby’s kicks and Katsuki almost immediately after, breaking into a wide grin.

“Crazy, right?” Yuri says, eyes sparkling, voice vibrating with excitement.

Other Yuuri nods in agreement and Viktor responds with a very loud, “It’s incredible!”

“What’s incredible?”

Otabek’s head snaps to the doorway and he immediately curses himself for not having locked it. His sister is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over her chest.

“You’ve been holed up in here for like _two_ _hours_ , Beka. You promised me we’d go see a movie before you—“

“Ahh, there it is again! This baby is going to be a martial artist!”

Otabek winces at Viktor’s very excited, very _loud_ voice reverberating through the room.

“Is that Viktor Nikiforov?” Irina physically perks up and bounds over to Otabek’s side before he can even think about whether or not slamming the laptop shut is a good idea.

Irina gasps once she’s ambled onto the bed and the screen is in clear view.

“Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki, _and_ Yuri Plisetsky?” Irina shrieks and all three heads on the other side of the screen turn towards the source of the sound, matching looks of surprise on their faces. “I knew you said they were your friends, but I never really thought—?” Irina rambles excitedly, abruptly cutting herself off once she’s apparently examined the picture in front of her thoroughly enough to question it. “Is Yuri Plisetsky _pregnant_?” she gasps, leaning in uncomfortably close to the screen. 

“ _Irina_ …” Otabek groans, forcefully prying her away from the laptop. Once he can see the frame again, he’s met with a very wide-eyed Yuri framed by a very uncomfortable-looking pair of world-renowned figure skaters.

“Um. Everyone. This is my sister… Irina. Irina, this is Viktor, Yuuri Katsuki, and… Yuri Plisetsky,” Otabek sighs, defeated, before locking eyes meaningfully with Yuri.

“Nice to meet you, Irina!” Viktor cuts in with practiced ease, his melodic Russian and media smile sending Irina practically swooning beside Otabek. “I’m so sorry, but my Yuuri and I were just popping in. We’re actually in the middle of preparing dinner—” Viktor says this part very slowly, eyes drifting briefly over to his Yuuri, who’s Russian isn’t perfect by any means, but good enough at this point to understand the basics.

“Ah, yes! Dinner! We must finish making it,” Katsuki finishes, Russian almost unnaturally textbook but certainly understandable. “Bye, Otabek! Nice meeting you, Irina!”

Irina nods back, smile wide, but it quickly falters as her gaze travels back to Yuri, who lay prone and undeniably _pregnant_ on the bed before them.

Once Katsuki and Viktor have exited the frame, the air grows stale. Otabek is frantically planning damage control in his mind while Irina and Yuri seem to size each other up across the screen.

“So… this is why you dropped out of the season?” Irina finally breaks the silence and in that moment Otabek regrets ever introducing his younger sister to the world of his sport all those years ago. How could he have ever guessed that her resulting knowledge of figure skating fandom would come to work against him like _this_?

Yuri flits his gaze over to Otabek, assessing. Otabek shrugs helplessly and Yuri narrows his eyes at him before returning his attention to Irina and responding, “Um. Yes. But… no one really knows yet, Irina,” he states slowly, purposefully. “So, if you could keep this a secret between just us…”

Irina perks up at that. “Of course! My lips are sealed!” Irina nods dutifully, making an exaggerated show of gesturing zipping her lips and tossing away the key. Otabek will have to make sure she truly realizes the importance of her new responsibility but for now, he supposes they’ll have to take her word for it. 

Yuri seems to relax anyway, sinking a bit more into the pillows and absently stroking at the top of his belly. “Good. That’s… I really appreciate it. Thank you. I’m Yuri, by the way.”

Irina snorts. “ _Obviously_! Otabek said you were friends and I’ve seen the pictures of you guys together on Instagram, but I didn't think… I mean, you’re close enough that you told him about your _baby_?” Irina asks incredulously and Yuri’s eyes immediately bore into Otabek’s with an intensity that causes chills to tingle down his spine.

Otabek gulps, assessing the scene before him: Irina staring up at him with expectant, curious eyes and Yuri surveying him with narrowed ones from the Skype window.

His knee-jerk response is on the tip of his tongue; _of course_ Yuri told him about the baby, after all, they’re _best friends_ , but then Irina interjects again—

“Wait… who’s the dad? I didn’t know you were dating anyone?”

Otabek draws in a very controlled breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes and he hears Yuri startle and choke on his own spit.

“ _Irina_ … you just met him. Mind your own business, _please—_ ” Otabek starts only to be cut off by a curiously acid-tongued Yuri.

“ _I_ don’t mind.”

Yuri is crossing his arms across his belly in defiance, chin tilted up challengingly.

Otabek raises both eyebrows up towards his hairline.

“Yuri,” Otabek splutters, taking a breath before trying again. He can feel both Yuri’s and his sister’s gazes laser-focused on him.

“Yuri, don’t feel like you have to—”

“I don’t feel like I have to do anything, _Beka_. Why don’t you tell her? Hm?”

Otabek’s jaw drops and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. He trusts his sister, he really does; but he knows just how manipulative his mother can be about obtaining information when she suspects something.

“Yuri,” Otabek breathes, at a loss for words.

The silence stretches out uncomfortably for a few moments, Yuri’s expectant gaze boring into Otabek even across the grainy window of the video chat. He sees Irina frantically looking back and forth between the two of them for a solid thirty seconds before something seems to click and she gasps, this time lower in her chest. 

“But I thought you were seeing Sa—?” Otabek nearly claps a hand to Irina’s mouth but he somehow finds it in himself to stay composed as he swiftly cuts her off.

“Yura, I’m gonna talk to Irina about this. Okay?”

Yuri remains quiet for a moment, eyes wide and glassy in a way that seems to threaten spilling tears any second. He must feel guilty, Otabek quickly realizes; they can discuss that later, he thinks, as much as he’d love to address it now. There are more pressing issues at hand.

“Okay,” Yuri eventually agrees, eyes downcast. 

“Yura,” Otabek says, tone commanding enough that Yuri lifts his eyes up again.

“I love you,” he says, firm, in spite of the way Irina squeaks and claps a hand to her mouth beside him.

Yuri looks surprised, too, looking back and forth between him and Irina before finally settling his gaze onto Otabek with a watery smile. “I love you, too,” he supplies, voice small and fragile.

“I’ll talk to you later? I’ll try to call tomorrow before my flight, but if not, I’ll see you in Moscow soon.”

Yuri nods and voices a small “bye,” before cutting the connection.

A weighted silence extends for a few moments between him and his sister.

“… Beka…” Irina cuts in after a minute, arms crossed and tone expectant.

“Yeah. Um. Let’s talk.”

 

 

 

“So… you’re telling me… you knocked up Yuri Plisetsky—”

“ _Language_ , Ira—”

“I’m _twelve_ , I’m practically a teenager. Give it a rest,” Irina scoffs, waving a dismissive hand before pressing on, “So, you got Yuri Plisetsky pregnant before you were even _dating_ … and then you let mom set you up with Salam… and now you and Salam are using each other as _beards_ to hide your _actual_ relationships from your families?”

Otabek shakes his head, incredulous. “ _Beards_? Seriously, Ira, where are you learning this stuff?”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Beka!”

Otabek has to agree with that, surveying the way his sister has grown a full six centimeters in the last year and reminding himself how she’s now old enough to be wearing hijab outside of the house.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— yeah. That’s the gist of it.” 

Irina trills her lips, quiet for a short moment.

“Mom’s gonna kill you.”

“I know.”

“No, like she’s gonna _disown_ you.”

“I _know_.”

“Like—like, probably kick you out of the family for _good_ —”

Otabek holds his sister’s shoulders steady when her breathing starts to pick up and her eyes start glossing over in panicked tears.

“Irina, listen. I’m gonna figure it out, I just need time to… to think.”

“ _Figure it out_?” Irina whispers, hotly. “How are you gonna figure this one out? You’re committing about fifty haraam here. Mom’s never gonna let that go. And I can’t—” Irina hiccups, wiping her nose harshly against her sleeve. “I can’t _deal_ with her without you, Beka,” she grits out between tears that are starting to drip steadily from her eyes.

“Oh, Ira…” Otabek sighs, heart heavy, reaching forward to pull Irina against his chest.

“Ever since… ever since dad died…” she sniffles against his t-shirt. “Like, I know it’s been hard on her, but she just gets more and more strict every year… and ever since I got my…” Irina trails off gesturing vaguely towards her bottom half and Otabek nods in understanding. “Ever since _that_ , it’s like I can’t do _anything_ anymore. _You’re a woman now, Irina, you have to respect yourself, you need to take responsibility like an adult_ ,” she says the last part in a shrill mockery of their mother’s voice that's so spot on, Otabek has to curb his temptation to laugh. “I can’t even hang out with Serik anymore unless mom's in the same room, and we’ve known each other since we were like  _two years old_!”

Otabek strokes her hair, shushing her in soothing tones.

“I know, Ira, I—I know it’s different with me and I can never understand the kind of pressure she puts on you… but I know that it’s hard. _Trust me_ , I know how hard it is,” Otabek sighs, pressing a kiss to the crown of Irina's head before gripping her cheeks with both of his hands. “And I’m not going to abandon you. I promise you that. So you have to promise _me_ that you’re not going to tell mom about this, okay?”

Irina sniffles, eyes clenched tightly shut as she tries to old back more tears.

“Ira, I need you to tell me that you understand,” Otabek says quietly, holding her steady.

“ _Yes_ , I understand, Beka, obviously I won’t tell her,” Irina rolls her eyes, batting Otabek’s hands away and wiping furiously at her cheeks.

“Thank you,” Otabek sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll figure this out. I will.”

 

 

 

**YURI PLISETSKY – PREGNANT? WHO’S THE DADDY?**

Ever since the sudden announcement of Yuri Plisetsky’s mysterious withdrawal from this year’s Grand Prix Series, the figure skating world wants to know: _What_ _happened_? A career-ending injury? A terminal illness? Well, we’ve got exclusive shots that we think will finally put all of the rumors to rest.

 

[Shot of Yuri outside of Viktor’s and Yuuri K’s apartment, getting into their car while Viktor loads a suit case into the trunk. His baby bump visible through a large hoody]

[Shot of Yuri getting out of Viktor's car at the airport, sunglasses on and hood pulled up over his head. A hand resting on the top of his bump as he gets out of the car makes it more obvious]

 

It looks like Moscow’s resident ice tiger may be heading home for a visit – and with some precious cargo to boot. Coincidentally, he’ll be just in time for the Rostelecom Cup… could it be his baby daddy is on the roster? We all know Yuri P has a long-scrutinized friendship with Rostelecom Cup competitor, Otabek Altin. We here at Ice Fanatics wouldn’t be surprised if Yuri were on his way to cheer on Altin, or shall we jump the gun and say _Daddy Altin_ , at the competition!

 

 

 

“Otabek, over here!”

“Mr. Altin, would you care to comment on the recent tabloid claims about you and Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Otabek, are you the father of Yuri Plisetsky’s baby?”

Otabek shoves past the hoard of reporters on his way to the hotel concierge, eyes downcast, and his coach at his elbow. He can feel his coach’s heated gaze on the back of his head; he’d already filled him in on the situation after the tabloids dropped this morning and his coach’s phone had absolutely exploded with requests for comments. That doesn’t mean he’s any less angry about it now than he was then, however. Luckily, they have a competition to focus on and at least that puts off any lecturing he's prepared to lay onto Otabek until _after_ he’s skated.

“We have no comments about gossip,” his coach snips at the reporters. “Otabek is here to skate. If you have questions about his _skating_ , we’d be happy to answer them, but otherwise—”

“Otabek, how do you think your skating will be affected by having your pregnant mate here to cheer you on this competition?” a reporter shouts at them and Otabek’s coach scowls, before harshly pulling Otabek by the elbow up to the concierge and quickly retrieving their key cards.

“Get upstairs. I’ll deal with these idiots. You owe me,” his coach levels with him and Otabek nods gratefully.

“Thank you coach. Of course,” Otabek says and practically sprints to the elevators before any rogue reporters can get a hold of him.

Once he’s in his room, he leans heavily against the door and breathes out a sigh. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket; he’s kept it in airplane mode even after they’d landed. He’d found out about the tabloid right before getting on his flight to Moscow and he’s been hesitant to deal with the aftermath ever since.

Sure enough, the moment he turns off airplane mode, his phone chimes with about one hundred notifications - mostly calls and texts from Yuri, but also a smattering of messages from Viktor, Katsuki and a handful of DMs and texts from other skaters. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when he scrolls through and doesn’t find any notifications from his mother.

He _does_ find a string of texts from Irina, however:

_holy crap, did you see the internet? it’s blowing up about u and yuri. i doubt mom will see cuz it’s not like she goes online anyway but if she finds out somehow i’ll tell her it’s just gossip i guess??? :/_

Otabek texts out a hurried reply:

_Thank you. yeah, I don’t think she’ll find it on her own, but I guess I wouldn’t be surprised if someone at the hospital saw and told her… but I think she’ll probably buy the gossip card…_

He then scrolls back up to one of Yuri’s notifications and slides his thumb on the _return call_ option. It gets to barely half a ring when Yuri picks up.

“ _Fuck, Beka_ —”

“Yura, where are you? Are you okay?”

“ _I’m fine, I’m at deda’s. Are_ you _okay_?”

“Yeah… um, lots of press here. To be expected I guess. But my coach is dealing with them.”

Yuri goes quiet on the line long enough for Beka to prompt, “Yuri?”

“ _I’m here. What’s—what’s he telling them?”_ Yuri asks quietly.

“Just that we’re only going to answer questions about my skating. No gossip. I suspect he’s going to talk to the ISU about getting most of the gossip outlets out of here…”

“ _Oh_ ,” is Yuri’s unexpectedly minimal reply.

“Oh?”

“ _I dunno, I just— never mind_ ," Yuri cuts himself off with a gravelly sigh that has Otabek narrowing his eyes, confused. " _We can talk after the competition, okay? There are some paparazzi trying to get close to deda’s house, but he’s already called the cops like five different times_.”

“Good,” Otabek sighs out, relieved. “You’re not coming here, right?”

“ _Fuck, no. I mean— sorry, not that I don’t wanna see you skate, but obviously it’s kinda…_ ”

“Yeah, it’s nuts. And way too stressful for you right now as it is. Try and get some rest, okay? I’ll check in with you later, I have to start getting ready for ice time.”

“Okay.”

“Alright. I love you, Yura,” Otabek says, a soft smile forming on his lips in spite of the chaos.

“I… love you, too, Beka,” comes Yuri’s voice, sounding uncharacteristically shy through the tinny phone speaker.

They say their goodbyes and Otabek immediately sinks down to the floor. He lets the weight of his head knock back against the door behind him and he allows his eyes to shut for a few brief moments. It’s about to be a long three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! very sorry for the gap in updates. between giant earthquakes, dangerous amounts of rain, and packing up to move back home, things have been... kind of crazy! but i'm okay and i finally managed to pump out this chapter~ took me awhile to figure out how i wanted to introduce irina but i'm really happy with the direction it took. 
> 
> as always, please let me know what you think! your comments are really what keeps this fic going!
> 
> and if you ever wanna chat about it - yeayeayurio.tumblr.com :)


	9. or the mountains should crumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hm. Silver. Good effort, but I think bringing home the gold to the mother of your unborn child would have been a lot more romantic,” Yuri lilts as he lets Otabek in through the front door. He starts to saunter away teasingly and smirks when he hears Otabek scoff. Then he’s grabbing Yuri by the arm and pulling him gently back towards him.
> 
> “Almost two months and that’s the greeting I get?” Otabek laughs into the side of Yuri’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh hey. no excuses, just 10 pages of gratuitous fluff and sex, please forgive me?!

“Hm. Silver. Good effort, but I think bringing home the gold to the mother of your unborn child would have been a lot more romantic,” Yuri lilts as he lets Otabek in through the front door. He starts to saunter away teasingly and smirks when he hears Otabek scoff. Then he’s grabbing Yuri by the arm and pulling him gently back towards him.

“Almost two months and _that’s_ the greeting I get?” Otabek laughs into the side of Yuri’s neck.

Yuri rolls his eyes but sidles up to Otabek anyway, turning around in his hold to wrap his arms around his neck and drawing in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Otabek returns it easily, deepening it as he trails his hands down Yuri’s sides. Otabek pauses at his waist—Yuri had for sure seen that coming—and starts to draw away from the kiss.

“ _No_ …” Yuri whines, chasing Otabek’s lips. He knows Otabek is interested in observing the blimp his belly is starting to become at 26 weeks, but he gets enough of a reminder every day in the mirror.

Otabek breathes a laugh against his lips, pressing kisses to Yuri’s lips, nose, and forehead before pulling away completely. Yuri doesn’t hide his pout.

“Please? I really wanna see,” Otabek begs, pulling out the big guns with that dumb lopsided grin and those stupidly endearing puppy-dog eyes.

Yuri’s pout turns into a thin line as he chews at his lip. He’s feeling self-conscious right now; well, he’s feeling self-conscious a _lot_ lately. But for some reason, Otabek seeing him like this in person feels like a lot to take in.

“Hey,” Otabek noses at Yuri’s cheek after he’s sure he’s spent far too long worrying his lip and staring off to the side. “What’s going through your head?” Otabek prompts, pressing a kiss to Yuri’s temple and lifting his hands to trail softly up and down his arms. Yuri lets the tension trickle out of his posture as he relaxes into the touch.

“I dunno… it’s stupid, I just…” Yuri trails off with an aggravated huff and drops his head to Otabek’s chest, clinging to the bottom of his boyfriend’s hoody with both hands. Otabek wraps him up into a loose embrace, resting his chin atop Yuri’s head.

“I just feel really big lately. And it’s… embarrassing,” Yuri responds after a quiet moment.

“Embarrassing?” Otabek parrots, pulling back to look down at Yuri’s face. Yuri avoids his curious gaze by burying his face solidly into Otabek’s chest.

“ _Yuri_ …” Otabek admonishes on a soft chuckle. “Talk to me, baby. You know I won’t judge.”

“I _know_ , but like… you always wanna _see it…_ and—”

“What? Your belly? If it bothers you I’ll stop bringing it up.”

“ _No_ , I _like_ it!” Yuri whines hurriedly shaking his head back and forth against the fabric of Otabek’s hoody.

“Okay... so then… I’m sorry, I’m _really_ trying to understand here – what’s the problem?” Otabek stumbles over his words, settling his hands lightly against Yuri’s upper back and clasping them there.

“ _I_ don’t even know! It’s just _weird_. I’ve never looked like this before. I’m not used to it. Like, I’m big enough that I can’t even hide it anymore. Obviously…”

Yuri feels Otabek sigh against his hair before kissing the crown of his head. He feels Otabek pause at the top of his head, sucking in a breath as if he’s about to say something – but the next second, he’s leaving soft kisses down the side of Yuri’s face, his temple, his cheek, before trailing them down his neck.

“Beka…” Yuri sighs, wanting to call his boyfriend out for his distraction techniques, but melting into the touches anyway, even as Otabek worms his hands down his sides, resting just below his waist where the widest part of his belly is.

“Mm?” Otabek hums, feigning innocence, as he kisses at Yuri’s collar bone, the clothed swathe of his shoulder, down his arm, and eventually crouching down in front him, eyes level with the culprit of Yuri’s insecurity.

Yuri scoffs without bite, softly batting Otabek behind the head as he brushes his nose gently against Yuri’s navel. “Sap…”

Otabek just chuckles in response before leaning forward and placing a firm kiss to the base of Yuri’s belly, running his thumbs back and forth along his sides.

Yuri feels his cheeks heat up, warmth trailing down until he’s sure he must be blushing all the way down to his neck.

“ _Beka_ …” Yuri tries to reprimand, but it comes out as a whine instead.

Otabek presses a another kiss to the center of his belly in response, eyes roaming over the clothed bump before he licks his bottom lip, eyes darting up to lock with Yuri’s.

“Is your grandpa…—?”

Yuri shakes his head, running his fingers through Otabek’s hair. “He’s at dinner with Yakov and Viktor, of all people… discussing how to handle privacy and publicity about this shitstorm…” he sighs, tugging at Otabek’s hair so that he has to look up at him.

“Sounds like something you should be present for, doesn’t it?” Otabek smoothes his palms down the sides of Yuri’s thighs, making him shiver.

“Seriously?” he scoffs, pointing to his stomach. “With this thing so big and the press creeping around? I don’t think so.”

“That’s fair,” Otabek mutters distractedly, eyes fluttering shut as he brushes his nose along the underside of Yuri’s belly, hands inching daringly to the backs of his thighs. “Any idea how long they’ll be gone for?” he continues, fingertips teasing along the inseam of Yuri’s leggings.

Yuri gulps.

“P-probably a couple hours, maybe longer… they said they were going out for dinner and drinks and my deda and Yakov like to catch up when they can, so…” Yuri trails off on a low groan when one of Otabek’s fingers creeps up to outline his clothed perineum and teases at his entrance.

“Mhm… that’s nice that they’re friends,” Otabek breathes against Yuri’s stomach, one hand sneaking beneath his oversized T-shirt to lift it up over his belly while the other squeezes the back of his thigh.

“Fuck, _Beka_ … stop talking about grandpa and Yakov when you’re _doing_ shit like that,” Yuri sighs out shakily, one hand coming up to pinch Otabek’s ear between his fingers, but it lacks any real intent.

“Okay, okay. Just trying to get you to relax,” Otabek laughs breathily and Yuri trembles when he feels it against his now-exposed midriff and Yuri has to bitterly admit that yeah, he guesses it worked if Otabek’s coaxed him to this level of vulnerability.

Yuri bites his lip when Otabek starts leaving soft, open-mouth kisses to the sides of his belly, tracing over the faint beginnings of stretchmarks, underneath it where it’s at it’s heaviest, and finally where his bellybutton is starting to disappear into his skin, stretching into a thin line.

“ _Beka_ …” Yuri whines high in his throat, hands framing his face to try and cover up the heated blush that’s surely making him look like a ripe fucking tomato.

“ _Yura_ …” Otabek lilts back, lips vibrating against his naval in a way that makes him bite back a giggle.

“This,” Otabek continues, placing another warm kiss on the base of his belly before planting his arms on either side of Yuri’s waist and hauling himself back to a standing position, “is beautiful, Yuri. _You_ are beautiful.”

Yuri gasps low in his throat at the intensity of Otabek’s stare, the unbridled honesty laced in his words. He feels loved, and self-conscious, and taken aback, and _overwhelmed_ and—

“Oh god, Yura, I’m so sorry. Was it too much—?”

— and now he’s crying buckets and can’t seem to stop. Great.

“ _No!_ ” Yuri cries, woefully scrubbing at his eyes with his palms.

“No?” Otabek parrots, sounding confused.

“No, yes, I don’t fucking _know_! _Fuck_ , being pregnant _sucks_!” Yuri wails, throwing his arms dramatically over Otabek’s neck and sobbing into his chest for what has to be a solid five minutes.

A half hour later has Yuri curled up on the couch with Otabek watching a shitty made-for-TV rom-com and regretfully not curled up naked together on his childhood bed in post-coital bliss.

“Sorry again… about before,” Yuri grumbles over the soft sounds of the TV, snuggling up into Otabek’s lap.

“I said don’t worry about it and I meant it,” Otabek says simply and leans over to kiss to Yuri’s cheek.

“I know. I guess I’m just…” Yuri trails off looking for the right words, absently playing with the fingers on the hand Otabek is resting on his thigh.

“Hormonal?” Otabek supplies, a teasing smile in his voice.

Yuri pouts and smacks his shoulder weakly.

“Shut up.”

“Babe, given your track record on a normal day this is the least surprising thing about—”

“You sure you wanna finish that sentence?” Yuri cuts him off with a hard look and a raised eyebrow.

“Um,” Otabek freezes before putting his hands up in surrender. “What I _meant_ to say is that the way you wear pregnancy so _radiantly_ is the least surprising thing about this experience,” he says instead, a sickly sweet grin situated on his lips.

“Shut _up_ ,” Yuri snorts, repositioning himself so that he’s straddling Otabek’s lap to smoosh his cheeks together in retaliation.

“Hey, _hey_!” Otabek laughs, gently prying Yuri’s wrists away. “For real, though. You look…” Otabek pauses to rake Yuri up and down with his eyes, hands trailing down Yuri’s arms and settling on his waist. He takes in a shaky breath that has Yuri raising an eyebrow again.

“I look…?” Yuri prompts a bit petulantly. He can’t help but be on the defense after how spectacularly he’d failed at receiving Otabek’s last attempt at a compliment.

Otabek draws his bottom lip in with his teeth before poking his tongue out to run along the same area.

Yuri prompts him with a shake of the head and an impatient gesture.

“You look _really_ hot, Yuri,” Otabek says finally, cheeks flushing.

“Wh- _what_?” Yuri reels back and Otabek makes a surprised sound before diving forward to save him from careening off the couch.

Yuri gracelessly falls back into Otabek’s lap, but manages to brace his arms on the couch on either side of his head, bump pressed snug against Otabek’s own stomach and their faces inches away from each other.

They stare at each other for a short, tense moment, Otabek heatedly sizing Yuri up and down once more. That’s all it takes for the heat to pool mercilessly into Yuri’s gut and for him to lean forward and close the distance, lips meeting in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh my god,” Yuri whispers hotly between frantic, wet kisses as Otabek makes quick work of his leggings.

Otabek’s hands travel up his loose shirt to palm at his belly and Yuri _moans_ at the heat of his touch. Otabek stares down at the globe of his belly like its something to be worshipped, and oh _god_ , if that doesn’t make his cock twitch in interest, slick dribbling down the backs of his thighs.

“Is this-is this a _thing_?” Yuri whispers hesitantly, afraid to break whatever spell he’s got Otabek under.

Otabek shakes his head to come out of his trance and meets Yuri’s eyes, his own wild and dilated. “ _Yes_ ,” he groans forlornly before burying his face in Yuri’s neck to latch onto his scent gland with a grunt.

“Fuck, Yuri, you—”Otabek huffs out, nibbling at the tender skin in a way that has Yuri clawing at his back with one hand and reaching to tug the back of his head closer with the other. “You look so _gorgeous_ , like a fertility goddess or something and I— knowing _I_ put this in here, _I_ did this…” Otabek pauses to firmly map out the expanse of his belly with one palm and _whines_ into Yuri’s spit-slicked scent gland, a feral sound that goes solidly to the heat pooling in Yuri’s gut.

And then Yuri moans, long and low, hips canting down into Otabek’s groin. Otabek enthusiastically responds by unzipping his pants and slotting their cocks together with his fist.

“Yeah,” Yuri moans, grinding tight little circles into Otabek’s hand.

“Yeah, you bred me so good, baby, want you to do it again,” Yuri breathes out against Otabek’s hairline, not understanding what exactly he’s said until Otabek releases his grip on their cocks to instead grab at Yuri’s thighs with both hands.

Otabek sighs out a shaky, shallow breath against the spot he’s been abusing on Yuri’s neck, hands tightening enough on Yuri’s thighs that he’s sure the indents of his fingerprints will still be there tomorrow.

“Beka?” Yuri questions, pitifully bucking up into the air and whining at the loss of friction.

Otabek finally unlatches from Yuri’s neck, sighing out a hot breath against his skin that makes him shiver, before pressing chaste kisses up his neck, jawline, and finally to his lips.

Otabek locks eyes with Yuri, pupils blown so wide that Yuri swears all he can see are the black of his irises.

He licks his lips, assessing, before breathing out softly against Yuri’s own, “Hands and knees, Omega.”

Yuri stills, stunned, before a full body chill emanating from his gut violently rakes through him. He’s nodding in submission before he can even think twice about it, practically melting down onto his knees.

Otabek is shaking as he gently guides Yuri so that he’s draped across the length of the couch, forearms supporting him on the far arm.

And then Yuri fucking _presents_ like he’s a show horse, buttocks squirming high up in the air, thighs spreading, and slick leaking unrelentingly down his thighs.

“Allah…” Otabek grits out, followed by a string of strained Arabic, something like a prayer. He runs his hands along the backs, sides, fronts, of Yuri’s thighs, before one settles on the bulge of his stomach, tenderly stroking the skin.

“You took my seed so well, baby, look at you,” Otabek marvels, grasping one of Yuri’s thighs with his forearm while the other hand continues to lavish attention onto Yuri’s belly. “You want it again, yeah?” he whispers into the base of Yuri’s spine, dragging kisses up it as he unfurls himself and he’s laid himself out entirely against Yuri’s back.

“ _Fuck_ yeah, knot me so hard you put another baby in me,” Yuri moans between unsteady breaths, entirely unsure of where this dialogue is coming from. Otabek sucks in a gasp next to Yuri’s ear. He’s exercising some serious, but entirely unnecessary, restraint Yuri thinks as he grinds back against Otabek’s waiting cock that he’s lining up far too meticulously.

Yuri moans impatiently, throws his forehead against the arm of the couch and cries, “Alpha, _please_!”

And then Otabek is _growling_ against the shell of Yuri’s ear, hips slamming forward and sliding straight to the hilt in one shot. Yuri cries at the stretch, the weight, and the sensation of Otabek’s cock hitting right where he needs it.

“You’re so damn _perfect_ ,” Otabek grunts out, staccato, in time with the thrusts of his hips.

Yuri _keens_ then in response, hand coming up to join Otabek’s palm spread flat on the base of his stomach.

“Mmn, yeah, but—” Yuri grunts at a particularly deep thrust, “ _you_ did that, Alpha, _you’re_ the reason I look like this, aren’t you?” Yuri monologues, raspy in his throat, voice vibrating as Otabek continues to pound relentlessly into him.

“Oh my god, _Yuri_ ,” Otabek pants into Yuri’s shoulder, one arm coming up to flank beside Yuri’s head and his hand tangling with Yuri’s own that’s grappling into the armrest.

“Yeah, that was—that was all _you_ , Alpha,” Yuri continues once Otabek’s whining into his skin, hips rutting desperately up into Yuri’s wet heat, all but losing the previous rhythm he’d set.

“You fucked this baby into me, you made me your _bitch_ ,” he hisses out, then gasps when Otabek’s teeth clamp down on his neck with a growl.

It takes Yuri a good couple of seconds to process what happens within the next moment. His vision is blurring, that’s for sure when he feels Otabek’s knot start to expand against his insides, all while Otabek is rutting up into him so deep Yuri feels like he’s going to split in half. The dual pressure of Otabek latched onto neck and buried inside of him is what makes the thin coil of heat in his stomach snap and has him seeing white and screaming until his throat is raw.

When his senses start to come back to him, he can distantly hear himself sobbing in the wake of his release. Otabek is still gripping his hand and cradling his belly like it’s something holy, hips working in aborted circles as he empties his seed into Yuri on a low groan. The pulsating, over-stimulation turns him into a gasping, shivering mess.

Yuri sighs, collapsing onto the couch which Otabek’s help. He maneuvers them so that they’re spooning, Otabek’s hand returning back to the bump like a goddamn moth to a light.

“ _Damn_ , Beka…” Yuri sighs after a moment spent with the two of them catching their breaths and fidgeting to find a more comfortable position. “Had I known this were a kink of yours earlier, I would’ve—”

“Don’t,” Otabek interjects tightly, shaking his forehead back and forth against the skin of Yuri’s shoulder. “Don’t finish that sentence. Had we known this were a kink earlier, you would’ve had to have gotten pregnant earlier, because _I_ didn’t even know.”

Yuri laughs, breathless. “Fair. Well, I guess we can blame it on biology, huh?”

“Whatever,” Otabek grumbles sourly, eyelids fluttering against Yuri’s shoulder blade.

“Don’t be a sourpuss, it was _amazing_ sex in any case,” Yuri giggles, sidling up impossibly closer into Otabek’s arms.

Otabek stills for a moment before Yuri feels a slow smile against his neck. “Yeah. It was,” Otabek agrees. “And for the record… pregnancy really _does_ look good on you,” he continues, nuzzling into the crook of Yuri’s neck like an overgrown housecat. “Sex thing or no,” he whispers teasingly, making the baby hairs on Yuri’s neck stand up.

Yuri giggles before taking pause at all of the attention Otabek has been laving onto his neck. Hadn’t he bitten it before, or had it just been his imagination?

Otabek must feel Yuri stiffen, because the next minute he’s peering over, expression fixed into a concerned question mark.

“Before…” Yuri starts slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “Did you— um…” he loses his words, gesturing vaguely at the area of the alleged bite.

Otabek’s eyes widen in understanding almost immediately and he shuffles back, raking Yuri’s hair away from the spot. His eyes search, his body tenses, and then his eyes lock on something; something that has him breathing out a sigh and tension melting away in evident relief but for some reason has Yuri feeling the opposite.

“It didn’t break skin,” Otabek quickly supplies. “Yuri, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without asking—”

“Beka,” Yuri interjects with a flippant shake of the head. He’s in no mood to talk about this again and dredge up raw emotions after possibly the most spectacular sex of his life, especially not when Otabek’s stance clearly hasn’t changed.

“You know how I feel about bonding. You don’t even have to ask. Let’s… let’s just talk about this another time when you’ve got _your_ shit figured out.”

“I—” Otabek starts, voice unusually high and edging on defensive. But he quickly deflates with a gravely sigh. “Yeah, okay.”

They sit in a beat of thick silence before Yuri’s had enough. He deserves at least _one_ night with his boyfriend that isn’t full of any more drama than is necessary as a doubly hormonal, pregnant teen.

“Besides, we have to clean up before everyone gets back. My grandpa will _freak_ if he thinks you’ve done anything inappropriate to me in this house.”

Otabek tenses again, lips drawing together in a tight line.

“Would’ve been great information to know _beforehand_ , Yura,” Otabek sighs, knocking his forehead against Yuri’s shoulder.

Yuri snickers, patting Otabek’s bicep with a hand. “It’s fine, I know he’s got spare couch covers and stuff. I’ll just say you spilt tea on it.”

Otabek scoffs. “How come _I_ have to be the one who spilled the tea?”

“Less suspicious.”

“ _How_? You’re a walking disaster when you’re not on the ice, Yuri Plisetsky—”

“My house, my rules!”

“It’s not even your house, you brat!”

Yuri leans back, sticking his tongue out at Otabek who is currently sending him a very convincing mock glare. After a moment, they break and descend into a fit of laughter.

After the laughter quiets, they meet lips in a sweet kiss that Yuri will keep locked away in his memory for stormy days. He knows there are bound to be more of those yet to come, but he wants to make sure he savors the good moments along the way; the ones that make him sure that regardless of how tough or even impossible some days may seem, he knows he’s chosen the right partner to brave them with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO MUCH for all of the positive feedback even when i was as good as dead.
> 
> long story short, i moved across the world, started working 2 jobs, and got very overwhelmed... BUT seriously, your guys nice comments brought me back from the dead and for that i am eternally grateful. 
> 
> i only needed 2 days of cancelled work due to LITERAL -25 DEGREE WEATHER AND -50 DEGREE WINDCHILL (stay strong midwest...) to get my ass into gear and bang this thing out!!!
> 
> i am feeling thoroughly inspired, so i will try my very very best not to leave y'all hanging for half a year again!!! please lemme know what you think about this one. it's super self-indulgent, but i'm hoping it satisfies... <3


	10. to the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Um?” Otabek tries, and although he’s curious as to what’s set Yuri off, he’s also not about to test his pregnant boyfriend's hormones so early in the morning.
> 
> “You keep saying that,” Yuri huffs after a moment, hard look melting into a cute pout.
> 
> “What?” Otabek asks, genuinely confused, and Yuri shoots him an exasperated look.
> 
> “Seriously? What you just said.”
> 
> Otabek knits his brows together, short-term memory momentarily failing him. “Um…” he stalls, wracking his tired brain before his previous sentiment comes back to him. “What, that I love you?” he tries, eyes narrowing in confusion.
> 
> “Yes!” Yuri declares wildly, propping himself up on his elbow to gaze down accusingly at Otabek. “Why do you keep saying that?” he demands.
> 
> “Um…” Otabek tilts his head at this, unsure of where this conversation is heading. He wavers under Yuri’s hard stare, but eventually settles on the honest truth. “Because I do.”

Otabek groans into reluctant wakefulness as a solid weight settles onto the bed next to him and spoons itself firmly against his chest.

“ _Yura_ …” he breathes into the back of his boyfriend’s neck, Yuri’s baby hairs tickling his face where its tied up and making him scrunch up his nose.

“Mm, go back to sleep, baby,” Yuri coos, craning his neck to plant a chaste kiss to the side of Otabek’s temple before grabbing his forearm and dragging it across his waist.

“’Time is it?” he grumbles, making no attempt at opening his eyes as his hand gravitates to Yuri’s bump.

Yuri sighs and melts back against Otabek, relaxing at the gesture before replying, “Early,” tone dripping in exhaustion.

“Mm?” Otabek makes a questioning noise, pressing a soft kiss to Yuri’s neck.

 “Like five,” Yuri says on a yawn, nails raking over Otabek’s forearm before lacing his hand with Otabek’s own on his belly.

“So _early_ ,” Otabek mumbles borderline incoherently against Yuri’s neck, lips dragging against the top of his spine.

He feels Yuri shiver and inch his hips back ever so slightly.

“That’s what I just said, genius, so go back to sleep,” Yuri giggles, thumb swiping back and forth on the fleshy part between Otabek’s forefinger and thumb.

“Mm mm,” Otabek lets his body speak for him, humping his morning wood unashamedly against Yuri’s backside.

“ _Beka_ ,” Yuri gasps, hand jerking, Otabek’s intertwined one moving along with it.

Otabek takes the way Yuri grinds his backside in turn as a sign to continue, trailing his and Yuri’s laced hands down beneath his boxers. 

“Ah,” Yuri whines loud and high-pitched and bucks into Otabek’s hand.

The sudden noise startles Otabek into a state of awake that has his hand twitching out of Yuri’s boxers and his eyes snapping open.

“ _Hey, nooo…_ ” Yuri cries pitifully, grabbing at Otabek’s forearm and trying to replace it under his waistband. 

“Yuri, your grandpa will kill me… you really shouldn’t even be in here,” Otabek sighs, keeping his hand firmly in place even as Yuri continues to tug at it.

Yuri huffs at that and Otabek can _feel_ the petulant roll of his eyes that accompanies it. Despite the fuss he’s putting up, he apparently finds some truth to Otabek’s words and drops Otabek’s arm to his waist, settling both of their hands back onto his belly.

“It’s fine. I mean, I’m already pregnant, it’s just him being old school,” Yuri scoffs, drawing little patterns with his fingers over Otabek’s hand.

“But it _is_ his house. I’m just trying to respect his rules,” Otabek mumbles against the nape of Yuri’s neck as Yuri cuddles up against his chest.

“Fine, fine,” Yuri grumpily concedes with a sigh. “Just cuddle with me then?”

Otabek laughs quietly on a yawn. “Of course, kotik.” His eyes droop shut, sleep easily coming to him once again.

“ _Kotik_? That’s a new one,” Yuri giggles, shoulders vibrating.

“Mm,” Otabek nods his forehead against Yuri’s shoulder blade. “Because you’re my cuddly little kitten,” he says yawning, then presses a smiling kiss to Yuri’s shoulder.

“You are _disgusting_ in the morning, you know that?” Yuri laughs sleepily and lightly bats at Otabek’s arm, but continues to snuggle up to him anyways. 

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, too,” Otabek mumbles, already half asleep – that is, until Yuri is turning around in his arms quickly enough that _Otabek_ feels like he’s gotten whiplash.

Otabek blinks his eyes open to find Yuri glaring daggers at him.

“Um?” Otabek tries, and although he’s curious as to what’s set Yuri off, he’s also not about to test his pregnant boyfriend's hormones so early in the morning.

“You keep _saying_ that,” Yuri huffs after a moment, hard look melting into a cute pout.

“What?” Otabek asks, genuinely confused, and Yuri shoots him an exasperated look.

“Seriously? What you _just_ said.”

Otabek knits his brows together, short-term memory momentarily failing him. “Um…” he stalls, wracking his tired brain before his previous sentiment comes back to him. “What, that I love you?” he tries, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“ _Yes_!” Yuri declares wildly, propping himself up on his elbow to gaze down accusingly at Otabek. “Why do you keep _saying_ that?” he demands.

“Um…” Otabek tilts his head at this, unsure of where this conversation is heading. He wavers under Yuri’s hard stare, but eventually settles on the honest truth. “Because I do.”

 Yuri blinks down at him, a few times in rapid succession and for a second Otabek’s actually kind of concerned that he’s having some kind of seizure.

But then Yuri breaks, sighing dramatically down towards the mattress before lifting his head up to meet Otabek’s perplexed features.

“You haven’t realized?” he tries again and Otabek just shakes his head ‘no’.

 Yuri bites his lip, opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, shaking his head and rolling his eyes with a small smile on his lips. 

“Do you remember the first time you said… _that_ to me?” Yuri asks.

 Otabek blinks, at a loss for words. “Um…”

“It was when we were Skyping and your sister walked in. Before you hung up you said it for the first time.”

“Oh,” Otabek replies dumbly, not sure how else to respond. “Did you…” Otabek starts again, fumbling over his words. “Did you… I mean, you said it back?” He finally settles on, statement lilting up at the end and revealing his uncertainty.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Yuri snorts then continues, voice small, “Because I _do_. It’s just… I dunno, I guess I just thought declarations of love were supposed to be, like… grander? Or something?”

Otabek furrows his brow, suddenly worried that he’d somehow ruined a milestone. “Is that what you wanted, Yura?”

“No! No, no. I just thought we should like… acknowledge it?” Yuri returns, voice edging on desperate. “Just never mind, it’s stupid, I’m being stupid—” he plows on, eyes glazing over in a way that makes Otabek’s heart tighten painfully.

“ _Yuri_ ,” Otabek breathes, laying a firm hand atop Yuri’s own that’s kneading nervously into the mattress. “Look at me, baby. Please?” He only continues once Yuri’s blinked most of the tears back and reluctantly meets Otabek’s eyes. “It’s _not_ stupid. Sometimes I just forget how differently our brains operate…”

At this Yuri giggles wetly and sniffles, hastily wiping his nose against his shoulder.

“For me, my love for you is just… simple. I’ve never thought twice about it. I guess that’s why it just came out and I didn't even realize,” Otabek says truthfully. When Yuri does nothing but stare back at him wide-eyed, Otabek lifts his boyfriend’s hand and presses soft kisses to his knuckles. “I’m sorry I didn’t consider how you might have thought about it. How most people probably do.”

 Otabek’s eyes trail down Yuri’s neck in time with the redness that blooms there.

“ _Beka_!” Yuri whines, diving forward into Otabek’s chest and burying his face into his neck.

“ _Yura_!” Otabek mimics, lips quirking up into a smile as Yuri nuzzles into the crook of his shoulder.

“You are _so_ embarrassing,” comes Yuri’s muffled reply.

Otabek chuckles at that, the tension of the previous moment evaporating as he wraps his arms firmly around Yuri’s waist and pulls him in impossibly closer.

 “But you still love me?” he teases, playfully nosing at the top of Yuri’s head.

 “ _Yes_ , you idiot,” Yuri groans.

“Say it,” Otabek cajoles, lightly tickling along Yuri’s ribs just to get a rise out of him.

“Ugh!” Yuri laughs. “S-stop, I’m g-gonna _snort_ and my grandpa’s gonna wake up!” Yuri gasps between giggles and Otabek acquiesces easily, pulling back enough to lock eyes. 

Yuri glances down shyly, drawing in a breath before squaring his shoulders and meeting Otabek’s eyes once more. _Cute_ , Otabek thinks fondly.

“Fine,” Yuri pouts. “I love— _ooh_.”

“Sorry?” Otabek starts on a chuckle at Yuri’s seeming unwillingness to profess his love, but he furrows his brow in concern when Yuri curls in on himself, face contorting into a pained expression.

“Yura, what’s wrong?” Otabek quickly sits up, peering down at his boyfriend and placing a steadying hand on his shoulder as Yuri clutches his stomach.

Yuri shakes his head and holds up a hand. “Just wait,” he grits through his teeth between shallow gasps.

After a few moments of panting, Yuri unfurls himself to lie on his back and releases a shaky breath.

“Babe…?” Otabek gently prods at his side when a few seconds have passed with no other reaction from Yuri.

“’M fine,” Yuri mumbles, cracking at eye open. “Now give me your hand, baby’s kicking.”

 “W- _what_? It hurts that much?” Otabek gawks while Yuri tugs his hand down to his belly.

“ _No_ , dummy, I just had a contraction—”

“ _Already?_ ” 

Yuri heaves a long-suffering sigh that tells Otabek he is exercising a saintly amount of patience right now.

“Yes. It's like practice for the real ones. It’s normal,” Yuri explains, impatience edging into his voice. “Are you satisfied now?” he presses when Otabek does little more than work his jaw as he tries to wrap his mind around what just happened to his boyfriend.

“I… guess,” Otabek starts slowly, earning a raised brow from Yuri. “How often does that happen?” 

“I dunno, a few times a day. It’s fine, it’s basically like heat cramps but a little more intense.”

When Otabek just wrinkles his brow in uncertainty Yuri’s petulance softens into something more like affection and he places a hand gently over Otabek’s.

“It’s really okay. It doesn’t hurt too much, I promise. Now can you please give me your hand because I really want you to feel our baby,” Yuri says in earnest, face going pink as he mumbles the last little bit.

Otabek concedes with a puff of breath, mouth stretching into a grin on its own accord as he nods and softens the tension in his hand for Yuri to maneuver it more easily. 

“Okay, good,” Yuri says, a shy little grin on his lips. He presses Otabek’s palm to the underside of his belly, spending a few moments adjusting its position before he’s seemingly satisfied.

“I can’t feel—” Otabek starts after a short stretch of nothingness, but he’s quickly interrupted by a distinct nudge against his palm.

“ _Oh_ ,” Otabek gasps and Yuri just laughs quietly in response.

“Yup. That’s your baby,” Yuri confirms, voice warm, his thumb caressing the back of Otabek’s hand.

“ _Our_ baby,” Otabek corrects without thinking, earning a little squeeze of the hand from Yuri. 

“Mhm,” Yuri agrees wordlessly. 

Otabek marvels as their baby seemingly does a somersault inside of Yuri, moving in a tangibly circular pattern before thumping against his stomach one final time and quieting down. 

When Otabek looks back up at Yuri, he's met with watery green eyes. “Oh, Yura—” Otabek starts to say, but his words die in his throat when Yuri’s other hand comes up to his cheek and brushes away wetness under his _own_ eyes that he wasn’t even aware of.

He grabs Yuri’s wrist and brings his hand up to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on his palm before lacing their hands together.

“You are a _sap_ ,” Yuri insists, even as tears are streaming down his face.

“Right back at you,” Otabek returns on a sniffle.

Otabek smiles through his tears, allowing himself to survey Yuri’s own tear-stricken, but _happy_ , features and commit this moment to memory.

“Yura, I love you,” Otabek says for what he feels must be the umpteenth time this morning. He feels like there’s so much more he wants to express with those three words, but he counts on Yuri to connect the dots.

“I love you too, Beka,” Yuri returns, and Otabek immediately knows Yuri wants to convey just as many unsaid words layered within the simple sentiment.

 

-

 

Otabek wakes up for the second time that morning when the mid-morning light is streaming in more insistently through the blinds. It takes him a moment of blinking the sleep from his eyes before he realizes his phone vibrating against the nightstand.

He picks it up and presses it to his ear without bothering to check to caller ID. It’s usually either his sister or his coach anyways.

“Morning,” Otabek grumbles, settling back into bed and anticipating a short conversation so that he can get back to cuddling his sleeping boyfriend.

“ _Otabek_!” The shrill female voice has Otabek startling into a state of awake and vaulting up into a seated position as Yuri groans in protest and clings to his waist.

“What—?” Otabek is confused to hear Salam’s panicked Kazakh cutting him off before he can even get a word in. 

“ _We need to talk. Now. You’re all over the news here and I was with our parents this morning and we saw_ —”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down,” Otabek pleads in a heated whisper as he carefully peels Yuri’s arms off of his waist, suppressing every urge to match his motions with the wild beating of his heart. As Salam launches into yet another panicked explanation, Otabek cuts in once more, glancing nervously at Yuri’s furrowed brow as he’s roused from his deep sleep. “Wait, just. Gimme a second.”

Salam takes a few deep breaths in and out as Otabek tiptoes out of Yuri’s room and back into the guest room, taking refuge in the small bathroom in the back corner.

“Okay, start over,” Otabek tries to keep his tone calm for both of their sakes as he settles himself on the toilet seat.

Salam draws in a final breath before she launches into her story once more, anxiety still present in her tone, but speaking at a much more understandable rate.

“ _I’m back in Astana this weekend and I went out with my parents and your mom for breakfast earlier this morning. We saw you on the news_.”

Otabek swipes a hand through his frazzled morning hair trying to gather his thoughts. “Okay. Okay, what did you see?”

“ _The thing about you and_ Yuri Plisetsky?” Salam responds, incredulity laced into her words.

Otabek winces as her tone rises at the end, glancing nervously at the door. Okay, he guesses maybe that was obvious. It still doesn’t prevent him from voicing the only thing that’s running through his mind on repeat.

“Shit.”

Salam is quiet for a moment, but her breath hitches over the receiver before she replies in a careful deadpan, “ _So it’s true_.”

“I mean…” Otabek stutters, more than anything else just unsure of where to start.

“ _Are you or are you not dating Yuri Plisetsky_?” Salam asks in an interrogative tone that tells Otabek it’s not a request. 

“Well, yes—”

“ _And did you or did you not get him pregnant_?”

“I—I…” Otabek trails off and any semblance of a reply dies in his throat when he feels hot tears of frustration building up behind his eyes. 

“ _Otabek…”_ Salam cuts in softly when he knows his breath is picking up audibly.

Otabek squeezes his eyes shut to quell the tears and answers in a defeated whisper, “ _Yes_.”

“Okay. Okay,” Salam says, mirroring Otabek’s previously puzzled expression as if she’s trying to connect the dots in her mind.

“ _Listen, Otabek, I just— I guess I didn’t realize you were dating a world famous figure skater_?” Otabek can try Salam is trying to stay calm for his benefit, even as exasperation leaks through her tone. 

“I mean, I’m a skater, so…” Otabek starts, but pauses at Salam’s unimpressed snort. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize it was that important,” Otabek croaks in earnest. 

“ _Well, it sort of complicates things, doesn’t it? Especially when you’ve got a pretty high profile here at home and… I just wish you would have told me before…_ ” Salam trails off on a frustrated sigh that makes Otabek swallow guiltily, biting back another wave of tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Otabek says, entirely lost on all other words he could use to explain himself.

“ _Look, it’s fine. It’s not like anyone knows we’re quote, unquote dating besides your family. And I know your family is very private, so I don’t think media here is an issue, but this morning_ …”

“What did you see?” Otabek interrupts quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for the worst.

“ _Just some gossip channel on the TV at the restaurant… they showed pictures of Yuri and speculated about you being the father. I covered for you. I said it was just gossip because you hang out together at competitions and that we’re very happy together_.”

“Salam… you didn’t have to do that,” Otabek rubs at his temples, woefully uncertain whether or not that’s actually a good thing.

“ _I know_ ,” Salam spitfires back and Otabek can’t help but cringe as if he’s being scolded. “ _To be honest, I just didn’t really know what to say. I didn’t know if it was even_ true _or not at the time, so… I have my own butt to cover for too, you know_ ,” Salam says pointedly and Otabek makes a sound of assent.

“I’m so sorry I got you wrapped up in this,” Otabek groans, scrubbing a palm over his face.

“ _Don’t feel sorry for_ me _. I plan on acting none the wiser once all of this comes out, which it’s_ going _to_ ,” Salam says, tone edging on exasperation. “ _You’re the one who’s going to have to come clean sooner or later. And your poor_ boyfriend—”

“I know,” Otabek clips out between gritted teeth. “ _Believe me_ , I know. I’ve just been trying to figure out how to tell my mom…”

Salam goes suspiciously silent at that save for a delicate cough and Otabek narrows his eyes, somehow knowing where this is going.

“She said something, didn’t she? My mother.”

“ _Otabek…_ ” Salam starts hesitantly.

“Just tell me." 

“ _Are you sure…_?”

“Salam, _please_.”

“ _She, um. Wanted me to tell you to stop hanging out with that_ —” Salam pauses, seems to rethink her words and finishes unconvincingly, “ _with uh, him. That he’s bad for your image_.”

Otabek is instantly on edge. He knows his mother well enough to know she wouldn’t let something like this go so easily; not without a few choice words, anyway.

“What did she call him?” he demands, bristling. 

“ _I_ really _don’t think you want to_ —”

Otabek takes in a breath to tamp down the unbridled rage boiling in the pit of his gut. He’s about to demand an answer from Salam when a rapping at the bedroom door has Otabek snapping his head back to his surroundings.

“Beka! Deda made breakfast, where are you?” comes Yuri’s muffled voice from the hallway.

Otabek covers the receiver before calling back, “Um, toilet! I’ll be out in a minute!”

“Okay, but hurry, he invited Yakov and Viktor over and they’re not gonna wait for you to start!”

“Yeah, got it!” Otabek confirms, biting back a surprised cough. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate already, he somehow feels like he’s not going to get through this morning without some kind of veiled shovel talk from all three the men waiting downstairs at the kitchen table. 

“ _Are you_ with him?” Salam whispers heatedly.

 “Yeah. Yeah, I gotta go, sorry. Thank you for calling. And thank you for covering. Really,” Otabek whispers back.

“ _It’s fine. We’ll talk more later_ ,” Salam says seriously. Otabek can do nothing but voice a quiet agreement before he hangs up.

As he’s about to pocket his phone, he notices it light up with a text notification.

**Mama**

_You were on the news today. I’m sure you know why. Please stop hanging around that boy zhanym. The gossip isn’t fair to Salam._

Otabek leans his head forward and rests it in his palms, letting his phone clatter to the tile below.

“Fuck,” he whispers, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “ _Fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are starting to come to a head... really looking forward to writing the next few chapters. hope you enjoyed! your comments fuel me, so i'd really appreciate the feedback. :)

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes, i'm here to contribute yet another fine piece of angsty mpreg garbage to the world
> 
> i'm constantly thirsty for angsty otayuri omegaverse shit so i finally did something about it myself. i've had this sitting in my drafts for a couple months and finally got inspired to finish it last night, so here's to hoping i'll be inspired to continue~ :p those of you who have been with me for my chaptered fic days know i'm not the most reliable of authors so i apologize in advance lol
> 
> i've got somewhat of an idea for where this fic's gonna go so bear with me and i hope you enjoy the ride!
> 
> ps, this doesn't connect to any of my other otayuri stuff.


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